High Midnight
by michael t
Summary: Episode eight in "The Trick Chronicles", in which Buffy and Cordelia go camping and Xander and Faith pick up the slack.
1. the first part

Suggested listening:  
"Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival  
"Girls Talk" by Dave Edmunds  
"Love Is All Around" by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts  
  
  
High Midnight  
By  
  
Michael Walker  
  
The piece of paper looked innocuous. It was just a fresh, white piece of 8 1/2 by 11 paper, fastened to the bulletin board by a single thumbtack, fluttering slightly in the breeze created by the bodies of passing students. So why was Buffy Summers approaching it like a chicken around a chopping block?  
  
She had just leaned in and begun to scan the document when she felt a presence behind her. She turned and found herself face to face with Cordelia Chase. A tense moment passed as they stared into each other's eyes, then Cordelia's gaze flicked past her to the board.  
  
"What are you looking at?" Cordelia asked.  
  
Buffy made a sour face. "The partners list for Ms. Brannigan's death march through nature's beauty."  
  
Cordelia frowned. "I wish that woman had never heard of Outward Bound."  
  
"How does she get away with requiring this tick-fest?"  
  
Cordelia glanced at Buffy then returned her focus to the list. "She sold the school board on the idea. She claims it helps girls develop self-esteem and self-reliance."  
  
Buffy looked back at the board. "So does it?"  
  
Cordelia said, "How would I know? I've gotten a doctor's note excusing me for three years running. Unfortunately, I've exhausted my appeals."  
  
Buffy stared at her. "So you have to go this year? You're actually going camping? A tent and a campfire and a sleeping bag on the ground?"  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Please. I'm having nightmares already."  
  
"Hey, you guys checking out the list?" Buffy turned in time to see the speaker take her last long stride and stop. The new girl was tall and leggy, with hair so golden and perfectly tousled that it could only be real, cornflower-blue eyes and the most exquisite dusting of freckles across her photogenic nose and cheekbones. "Excited about the trip?"  
  
"If by excited you mean 'sick to my stomach' then, yes," Cordelia said, packing enough chill into that short statement to cause Buffy to check her lashes for icicles.  
  
"Come on," the girl said. "My family's been to that state park a bunch of times. It's really beautiful."  
  
"Well, that should be some comfort," Buffy said.  
  
"Hey." The girl turned to Buffy and extended a hand. "You're Buffy Summers, right? Bryn McDaniel."  
  
"Hi." Buffy squeezed the offered hand.  
  
"So," Bryn said, "you go camping much?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Me? No, the outdoors isn't really my thing, unless you count the terrace at the mall."  
  
"Hey, Bryn." Another girl stopped. She was shorter than Bryn, with short, dark hair and dark eyes and a stockier build.  
  
"Deena." Bryn turned to Buffy. "Do you know Deena Cartwright?" Buffy shook her head in the negative. "Well, you have to get to know her," Bryn said. "She's a real camping nut, into all the outdoor sports. Killer snowboarder." Deena said nothing during this paean to her skills.  
  
"Gee," Cordelia said, "I'm surprised she doesn't have jock itch."  
  
A lazy, lopsided grin spread over Deena's face. She stepped up close to Cordelia; the taller girl gave ground, an uneasy look on her face. Deena said, "Be careful Chasey. Lots of bad stuff can happen to you in the woods."  
  
The ensuing pause was awkward in the way the Titanic was a boating accident. Bryn finally said, "So... do you guys know who you're partners with?"  
  
Buffy said, "Nope. That's what I'm here to find out." She turned back to the list. Cordelia leaned over her shoulder. Buffy ran her finger down the list of names until she saw her own. She stopped and slid to the right where she saw...  
  
Her blood ran cold. "This cannot be happening," she said.  
  
Cordelia said, "No, it cannot."  
  
But there in black and white it read 'Buffy Summers---Cordelia Chase.'  
  
***  
  
"I cannot believe that you are neglecting your responsibilities to go traipsing through the woods." Rupert Giles was in a state of severe agitation bordering on dismay. His condition had driven him to pacing about the library. This forced Buffy to swivel back and forth in an attempt to keep him in her field of view.  
  
"Excuse me?" The Slayer was indignant. "Have you listened to a word I've said? This isn't my idea. It's a requirement. You know, go camping or fail, something with which I am far too familiar."  
  
Giles completed one circuit of the room and began another. "But surely now, with Mr. Trick here and the Reverend--"  
  
Buffy put her hands over her ears. "Sorry, I can't hear you."  
  
The librarian ran his hands through his hair. "There must be some way around this."  
  
"Trust me, there isn't." Buffy leaned forward for emphasis. "Do you think I want to spend a weekend in a small tent with Cordelia?"  
  
Giles stopped short, blinking. "Cordelia?"  
  
Buffy's voice was as bright and bitter as a new penny. "We're camping buddies. We get to share a tent." Her speech dropped to a more normal grumble. "Which would be of the annoying under the best of circumstances, let alone the way she's acted the past couple of weeks."  
  
Giles patted her on the shoulder. "Try and make the best of it."  
  
Buffy whirled, looking up at him. "Oh, thank you for becoming Mr. Understanding all of a sudden."  
  
Giles shook his head. "I'm sorry. I assumed that this was something frivolous, but given the choice between fighting vampires and being forced to cohabitate with Cordelia... well, there really must be no other choice."  
  
The Slayer scowled. "I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate these little pep talks, Captain Prozac."  
  
***  
  
Xander was slumped about as low as a person could go and still be considered on the sofa. His feet rested on the table and a bag of M&Ms on his chest. Every so often he would take out a piece of candy, look at it, then flip it into his mouth. His skill at this maneuver was uncanny.  
  
"And if that weren't bad enough, on top of everything else, I'm stuck in a tent with Buffy." Cordelia was in high dudgeon. Xander looked up at her and chewed.  
  
"That doesn't sound so bad to me," he said.  
  
Cordelia looked at him through narrowed eyes. "That would be your response. God, could this weekend get any worse?" Bryn McDaniel and Deena Cartwright walked by. Bryn smiled and waved. Cordelia lifted a limp hand in response, then threw her head back and rolled her eyes. "It was supposed to be a rhetorical question."  
  
Xander held up a red M&M. "I'm sensing you have some sort of problem with Bryn."  
  
Cordelia crossed her arms. "What, a problem with Miss 'Aren't I Special'? She is such a phony."  
  
Xander pulled his head back, looking like a painter checking perspective. "You're jealous, aren't you?"  
  
"Jealous? What are you talking about?" Cordelia's voice was filled with annoyance.  
  
"No, no, you are. But why?" He mimed great thought while Cordelia fumed. He snapped his fingers. "I know what it is. Bryn's pretty-like you-and her family has money-like yours-but she's also a nice person. And everybody likes her."  
  
"Hey," Cordelia snapped, "I can be nice."  
  
"Yes," Xander said, drawing the word out, "but Bryn's consistently nice. To everyone."  
  
Cordelia's face darkened like a cloud-laden afternoon. "I suppose you'd rather have Miss Bryn as your girlfriend... if you can't have Buffy, that is."  
  
Xander considered this for a long moment, then shrugged. "Nah. Bryn's nice, but it would be so hard to maintain a constant feeling of moral superiority around her." He looked up at her, what he hoped was a roguish grin on his face. Cordelia stared back, her face clenched and her eyes hot. Xander thought he detected a slight twitch at the left corner of her mouth. He arched his eyebrows and winked.  
  
"You are so mean." She jabbed him with an elbow.  
  
"Yeah, but that's what makes me so sexy." He wiggled his brows in what he hoped was a devilish manner. Cordelia rolled her eyes and made a gagging noise. Xander leaned in closer, working the eyebrows like Harpo Marx with the DTs. She pushed at his shoulder, annoyed, but he could see the smile struggling to break through. Finally she could contain it no longer; those perfect white teeth flashed like the sun breaking through after a rain. Xander's heart soared. Cordelia's smiles had been fleeting and infrequent the past few weeks. He believed it was connected to her recent abduction; something had happened that she was not sharing. He'd attempted broaching the subject more than once, but Cordelia changed the topic every time he tried. So he tried to make her smile and waited.  
  
***  
  
"I'll be fine," Lindsay Maeda said as she struggled to get out of bed.  
  
"Like hell," Faith said. "Which is a good description of how you look."  
  
"I just need some juice and a couple of aspirin," Lindsay protested before a coughing fit seized her. The Slayer seized the opportunity to grab her Watcher by the shoulders and force her back onto the pillow.  
  
"You are not going to be okay," Faith said. Your temperature was one hundred and two point five. That's not under the weather, Linz; that's officially sick." She pulled the blankets up to Lindsay's chin. "You are going to stay in bed today."  
  
Lindsay shivered. "Well, it might not hurt me to rest today."  
  
Faith gave her a stern look. "Until you feel better."  
  
Lindsay shook her head. "I need to patrol with you. With Buffy gone--"  
  
"With Buffy gone I'll manage." Faith picked up her backpack. "We got all the way across the country with just the two of us. I think I can handle a weekend. Maybe I'll pick up some help." She paused at the door and looked back at her Watcher. Lindsay was pale and sweaty. She attempted a smile. A bolt of fear raced through Faith as a quick vision of what her life would be like without Lindsay played in her mind. The Slayer shook her head to drive the specter away.  
  
"I'm serious," she said to Lindsay, "you stay in bed and rest."  
  
***  
  
Joyce Summers pressed the brake pedal, bringing the Cherokee to a smooth stop. She put the transmission in park and looked at her daughter. "You okay?" she asked.  
  
Buffy shrugged, her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses. "This is not my idea of fun."  
  
"You used to like to go hiking."  
  
Buffy smiled at her mother. "This isn't just hiking. Besides, that's not the problem. The problem is being paired with Cordelia."  
  
Joyce pursed her lips. "You're not going to be rude, are you?"  
  
Buffy laughed. "Do you think she'd notice? It's not just the camping thing, either. We have little... tests we have to pass, where we have to work together." She shook her head. "Cordelia's not going to try. We'll fail them all."  
  
Joyce placed a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Honey, I think you should be a little more understanding. Maybe it's taking some time for Cordelia to get over the kidnapping."  
  
"Well, she's dragging her feet."  
  
Joyce glanced through the windshield at the girls milling around the buses, busy with packing and loading, then looked at her daughter. "Buffy, God knows I've been negative enough about you being the Slayer. What I'm about to say doesn't mean I'm any happier with it, but here goes. Being the Slayer also means that you have strength and resilience that other people don't possess. Be patient with Cordelia. She doesn't have the gifts and abilities you have. Something that's an everyday thing for you might be very traumatic for her."  
  
Buffy took a deep breath. "Okay, I get it." She turned to her mother. "I'll be nice, I promise. Is that good enough?"  
  
Joyce smiled. "That's all a mother can ask."  
  
Buffy got out of the vehicle and took the backpack and sleeping bag out of the cargo area. Joyce waved and pulled away. The Slayer thought carrying everything in one trip, but decided that would be suspicious. She made two trips instead.  
  
Forty girls were making the trip. They were riding in a school bus, the proverbial 'yellow mule', while most of the tents and packs were being loaded in a second van. Buffy put the pack down and stretched her back. As she arched her spine, she spotted her partner.  
  
Cordelia looked like a million dollars, which probably wasn't much more than she'd spent on her outfit. From the Vuarnet sunglasses to the lightweight denim shirt over T-shirt and hiking shorts in perfectly matched shades of khaki to her Birkenstock socks and Salomon boots, she was perfect. Everything looked brand-new and boasted creases sharper than Cordelia's tongue. Buffy walked over, well aware of her own scuffed hiking boots, faded shorts and the ripped pocket on the flannel shirt she'd thrown over a T-shirt.  
  
"You look really ready to rough it, Cordelia."  
  
Cordelia gave her a bored look, eyes invisible behind her sunglasses. Finally she said, "Did you bring the food?"  
  
Buffy jerked a thumb behind her. "It's in my pack."  
  
Cordelia lifted her head slightly, looking over the Slayer's shoulder. "You didn't pack any hickory-smoked anything, did you?"  
  
Buffy stifled a sigh. It was going to be a long weekend. "No, I brought mostly water and dried fruit, some granola bars and, oh yeah, a new attitude for you." Cordelia made a smirky face. Buffy asked, "Did you bring the tent?"  
  
"Yeah. I got one of those big girls from the track team to load it." She was turning away from the Slayer when Bryn McDaniel walked up, trailed by Deena Cartwright. Buffy noticed that Bryn's outfit was very similar to Cordelia's, except for signs of heavy use. Deena wore boots, hiking shorts and a flannel shirt over a T. Buffy glanced down at her own clothing.  
  
"Hey," Bryn said, "did we get a great day to leave or what?"  
  
Cordelia said, "Please."  
  
Bryn pointed at the other girl's feet. "Are those new boots?"  
  
Cordelia glanced down, then back at Bryn. "Yes. Do you have a problem with that?" Everything about her voice and body language was antagonistic.  
  
Bryn shrugged, apparently unaware. "No, but you might. It's a long hike to the campground. Your feet might get pretty chewed up."  
  
Cordelia bristled. "My feet will be fine, thank you very much." Bryn shrugged.  
  
A whistle blew, drawing their attention. A tall, bulky woman wearing a floppy hat and carrying a six-foot long walking stick held up a hand. The girls gathered around her. Buffy occupied a spot toward the perimeter. Ms. Brannigan made her uncomfortable; the Slayer couldn't put her finger on the reason, but it might have been the teacher's disconcerting resemblance to Janet Reno.  
  
The teacher began to speak. "Listen up, girls. We're going to have a great weekend. You're going to learn how to be more self-reliant and independent. Remember that teamwork is the name of the game this weekend, so you and your partner will be judged together."  
  
Deena turned to Buffy and whispered, "Too bad, Summers. Looks like you got the short straw." Cordelia shot her a venomous look. Deena grinned.  
  
Ms. Brannigan finished her speech. "Let's load up and everyone get ready to have a wonderful time."   
  
"Fat chance," Cordelia muttered as she shoved past Buffy and headed toward the bus.  
  
***  
  
"Hey there, fellow babies," Xander said as he came up behind Oz and Willow. "Top o' the mornin' to ya."  
  
Willow made a yucky face. "That's the worst Irish brogue I've ever heard."  
  
"When is the middle of the morning?" Oz said.  
  
"I have no idea," Xander said, throwing his arms around them as they walked up the steps.  
  
"Let me guess," Oz said, "you're missing Cordelia."  
  
Xander released them. "Maybe a little."  
  
"How is she doing? We haven't seen her much the last couple of weeks." Willow made an effort to sound nonchalant.  
  
Xander shrugged. "She says she's okay, but she's okay like Crispin Glover."  
  
"Do you think it's the kidnapping?" Willow asked.  
  
"No," Xander said as he pushed open the door, "I think it's the fluorescent lights."  
  
Willow gave him a light slap on the arm as she passed. "You know what I mean. She was missing a long time-what, five days?" She looked at Oz. "It could be a PTSD." He shrugged.  
  
"A what?" Xander said. "Is there a vaccine or a cream for that?"  
  
"Dummy," Willow said. "PTSD is post-traumatic stress disorder."  
  
Xander thought about this for a moment. "Well, if it is, I'm sure her parents will provide the best psychologist money can buy." He sauntered away then turned and pointed at them. "Meet you for lunch?" They nodded.  
  
***  
  
Faith loped up the front steps of the school, feeling as conspicuous as a marble in a bag of marshmallows. She shot sidelong glances at passing students. She felt as though ten panes of glass separated her from them. She brooded about the gulf that separated her from them. Not just the Slayer stuff, either. They were children of California, tan and confident, at ease with themselves and their friends, used to wide-open spaces. She shared not one atom of common experience with any of them.  
  
A beefy guy in a letter jacket crossed her path, giving her a look of frank appraisal. Probably a member of the football team. She could most likely put him through the window if she wanted to, if she felt the look was insulting rather than flattering. Faith smiled at this thought, treasuring the certainty of that fact. The stupid idiot grinned back, thinking she was responding to his manly aura. Faith shoved past him, the mysterious smile still in place.  
  
***  
  
Buffy swayed slightly as the bus hit an uneven spot in the highway. She sat next to Cordelia in a seat near the back of the bus. So far it had been an okay trip; Cordelia had turned to the window and for all intents and purposes left the building. Buffy concentrated on taking deep breaths and trying to relax. Bryn and Deena were on the opposite side of the aisle, two seats ahead. As if she felt Buffy notice them, Bryn turned around.  
  
"Hey, Cordelia, I've got some ointment you can use if your boots hurt your feet," she said.  
  
Cordelia turned away from the window, her face a flat mask. "I told you not to worry about my feet."  
  
Bryn shrugged and smiled. "Just offering." She turned around and was soon back in animated conversation with Deena. Buffy watched them for a second, regretting the promise she had given her mother.  
  
"They seem to be having a good time," she said.  
  
Cordelia looked at her, then at them, or at least Buffy thought so. The sunglasses made it impossible to tell exactly where she was looking.  
  
Cordelia said, "I guess if you don't know any better..."  
  
"What's that mean?"  
  
Cordelia's vaguely hostile black gaze focused on the Slayer. "If Bryn wants to do hang with tweekos and losers, that's her business. I'm not into social work."  
  
With a great effort, Buffy kept her voice civil. "Could we-you-put away the knives for the weekend?"  
  
The brunette's mouth twitched. "If I'm not happy, nobody's happy. This weekend's about sharing, right?"  
  
Buffy leaned over, placing her mouth close to Cordelia's ear. "How about I share my boot with your butt?" Cordelia made a small angry sound and her head whipped back to the window. Buffy settled back in the seat, a small smile on her face. It was probably immature for that to feel so good.  
  
***  
  
Faith was bored out of her mind. She couldn't even remember what class she was in, but it was about to be over. When the bell rang she snatched her books up, dumped them in her backpack and shot out of the room, headed for the library.  
  
She pushed the doors open to enter an empty room. "Hey, Giles!" she yelled.  
  
"Please don't shout," he said, appearing from the stacks.  
  
"Sorry," she said, boosting herself up onto the counter. "Just wanted to swing by and tell you that Lindsay's sick."  
  
"Is it anything serious?" Giles asked as he came down the stairs, his baggy corduroys brushing the tops of his oxfords.  
  
Faith shook her head. "Flu. You know, fever, chills, burning the candle at both ends."  
  
"Ah." Giles placed a book on the counter as he went into his office. "Well, thank you for the euphemism."  
  
The doors banged open and Xander strode into the room. The noise brought Giles out of the office. "Ah, Xander. What can I do for you?"  
  
"What, a guy can't just come in and hang?" Xander stuck his hands in his pockets.  
  
Giles looked nonplussed. "Well, I suppose one could, but this is not where I imagine you... hanging."  
  
Xander shrugged as he wandered around the room. "I think I'm kind of at loose ends with Cordelia gone for the weekend."  
  
"Yes, and she's been gone almost--" Giles checked his watch "-two whole hours."  
  
Xander glanced over his shoulder. "Scoff on, but this is all new territory for me. I've always spent my weekends missing girls in general, not one specific girl."  
  
"Bet that's true," Faith said sotto voce. Xander looked at her but said nothing.  
  
"Can't you spend the weekend with Willow and Oz?" Giles was casting about for any solution.  
  
"Yeah, that'll ease the pain of loneliness. I'll play Beaver to their Ward and June." Xander's voice was equal parts sarcasm and melancholy.  
  
Giles blinked. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Skip it."  
  
Giles picked up a short stack of books and headed toward the stacks. "As much as I sympathize with your plight, I fail to see what I can do."  
  
Faith swung her feet and pushed off the counter, landing with scarcely a sound. "You wanna patrol with me?"  
  
Xander stared at her. Giles did a quick one-eighty.  
  
"Do you think that's a good idea?" the Watcher asked.  
  
Faith shrugged. "With Lindsay sick, I could use the back-up."  
  
Xander said, "You heard her, Giles. She desires my manly strength for back-up."  
  
Giles shifted the books in his arms. "I realize that both of you are well aware of the danger, but I wish you wouldn't make light of it."  
  
Faith cocked one eyebrow. "What should we do, Giles? Walk around looking like you all day?"  
  
"Cheap shot." Xander matched her brow for brow. "Cheap, but effective."   
  
"Hey, so I busted your chops," Faith said. "You're a big boy. You want to come with or you gonna sit and pout?"  
  
Xander thought for a moment. "I'll come with."  
  
Giles rolled his eyes. "Fine. I know I can't stop either of you, so just promise me that you'll be very careful."  
  
They offered a simultaneous "Yes, dad."  
  
Giles pursed his lips and said, "Very amusing."  
  
***  
  
The noonday sun sifted through the leaves of the trees scattered throughout the roadside park. Buffy shuffled forward as the line moved, shaking her head to dispel a nasty flashback to another meal line. When she reached the table she picked up a brown paper bag, then collected a bottle of juice. She looked around, searching for a place to sit. Cordelia sat alone at a picnic table. Buffy strolled to one of the trees and settled at its base. She took a sandwich, a bag of chips and an apple from the bag. She started to bit into the sandwich when a shadow fell across her. She looked up to see Bryn McDaniel.  
  
"Hey," Bryn said, "mind if I sit down?"  
  
"No," Buffy replied as she scooted over. "I'd enjoy the company."  
  
Bryn lowered her lanky frame to the ground. She took out her own sandwich and bit into it. "Mmmm. Nothing like school baloney and cheese." She chewed and swallowed. "I thought you might be eating with Cordelia."  
  
A cynical smile flashed across Buffy's face. "I think I'll wait until we're forced to co-operate."  
  
Bryn looked puzzled. "But aren't you guys friends?"  
  
Buffy stopped, her sandwich almost at her mouth. "I guess so."  
  
Bryn hastened to explain. "I'm not being nosy, I just see you guys hanging at school, so I assumed..."  
  
Buffy shrugged. "It's more like we share mutual acquaintances." She picked at her food. "Why aren't you and Cordelia friends? It seems like you have a lot in common."  
  
Bryn shrugged. "To be honest, I don't really know. We've known each other forever. We used to play together when we were little. But in junior high we just kind of... separated, I guess."  
  
Buffy glanced at the solitary figure at the table. "Has she always been so Cordelia?"  
  
Bryn laughed. "You mean the 'Queen Chase' persona? No, that happened in junior high. Around the time we stopped being friends I guess."  
  
"What happened?" Buffy asked. Ms. Brannigan's whistle sounded. The teacher was calling for attention.  
  
"Girls," she said, "we need to eat as quickly as possible. The forecast is for rain at the park this evening and I'd like to have our campsite set when it starts." She sat down. Buffy turned back to Bryn.  
  
The taller girl shrugged. "I not really sure what happened, but Cordelia stopped being happy like she used to be." She took an enormous bite of her sandwich.  
  
"Cordelia?" Buffy's eyes widened. "Happy?"  
  
"Oh, yeah." Bryn's eyes lost focus as she recalled the memory. "We used to play for hours. Go home all dirty and sweaty. Then she changed. There was that thing with her mom? After that, it was like being popular was her job."  
  
Buffy looked bewildered. "What thing with her mom?"  
  
Bryn's eyes widened and her mouth opened. "Oh, hey, if she hasn't told you, I'd better not. It's not my place."  
  
Buffy held up her hands. "I'm boundary girl, but I thought Cordelia was always popular."  
  
Bryn tugged at her earlobe. "That's the weird part. She was. But it became... different. It consumed her. It sucked all the life out of her. Used to, anyway."  
  
"Used to?"  
  
Bryn shrugged, looking down at the grass. "I'm not sure, but since she started hanging with you and dating Xander, she seems, I don't know, different. Maybe more like the old Cordelia."  
  
"Really?" Buffy was having trouble keeping her mouth closed.  
  
"Yeah. I guess that's why I thought you were best friends." Bryn finished her lunch and crushed the brown bag into a tight ball. "Thanks for the company," she said as she stood. Buffy watched her toss the trash into a can, watched and pondered the ramifications of being thought of as Cordelia's best friend.  
  
***  
  
"What did you get?" Willow asked as Oz sat down.  
  
"Cheeseburger," he said. "You?"  
  
"Tuna," she said.  
  
"Hey, what's up?" Xander dropped his tray onto the table and slung his legs over a chair. He picked up his burger and took a large bite.  
  
Oz looked at him closely. "You certainly seem caffeinated."  
  
"We thought you'd be missing Cordelia," Willow added.  
  
"Yeah," Xander said as he chewed. "I was Lonesome Jim, but I've got plans now."  
  
"Is it acceptable for us to ask what plans?" Oz said.  
  
Xander swallowed. "I'm going to hang with Faith."  
  
Willow and Oz paused with food halfway to their mouths. They looked at each other, back at Xander, and then back at each other.  
  
"Faith?" Willow asked. "I don't mean to sound harsh, but what are you thinking?"  
  
Xander frowned. "Just a little over reaction, don't you think?"  
  
Willow leaned forward. "Well, what are you going to do?"  
  
Xander shrugged. "Patrol." He took a drink of his soda.  
  
Willow chewed her lower lip. "Do you think that's a good idea?"  
  
"What's the big deal? I've patrolled with Buffy." Xander crunched ice between his teeth.  
  
"The operative word there being 'Buffy'," Willow said. "This is Faith, Faith who fights like Mike Tyson on crack."  
  
"Plus she's burned you a time or two in the past." Oz looked apologetic. "Unless you've forgotten that, in which case I said nothing."  
  
"Okay," Xander said. "I'll admit, I've been the target of an acid comment or two, but I should point out that I was being something of a jerk at the time."  
  
"True," Willow said. "You were being quite the Beavis."  
  
"Agreed," Oz murmured.  
  
"But we danced at Homecoming and seemed to get along well, so maybe we can bury the hatchet and be friends."  
  
Oz nodded. "From one dance to mutual mayhem. Seems like a logical progression to me."  
  
"Ha ha. Very funny, guitar boy. I think you're just jealous that I have exciting plans for the weekend." Xander tossed his wadded napkin onto the tray. As her lifelong friend left the cafeteria, Willow turned to Oz.  
  
"This is so a bad idea," she said.  
  
He nodded. "So."  
  
***  
  
The park's visitor center was a low stone and glass building that looked as though its designer was aiming for Frank Lloyd Wright but couldn't quite get him in focus. The terrain marched away behind the building in corrugated ravines and hills that grew progressively more rugged. The parking lot was empty save for the buses; Buffy guessed that they didn't get many autumn visitors. The girls milled around the lot, stretching legs and working out kinks as thick clouds began to scud across the sky.  
  
Ms. Brannigan came out of the visitor center, followed by a short, tough-looking woman with short blond hair. The short woman wore the brown and khaki uniform of a park ranger. As the teacher stepped onto the lot the girls drifted toward her until they formed a loose cluster. Buffy glanced to her left. Cordelia was making a great show of looking off into the hills.  
  
Ms. Brannigan smiled what she must have thought was an encouraging smile. "Ladies, before we head into the park, I have asked Ranger Young to say a few words." She stepped back, gesturing to the other woman.  
  
She stepped forward, holding her Smokey Bear hat down at her side. "Hello, I'm Park Ranger Diane Young and I will be accompanying you. It is our pleasure to host this event for the fifth consecutive year. This year will be a little different, though. We're going to a different area of the park. The buses will take us to the outermost point on our drive-through trail, and from that point will have an eight-mile hike to our campsite. Please do not leave the group, as we will be hiking through the most rugged section of the park. I should also warn you about the bridge at Varney's Canyon."  
  
"What's that?" someone yelled.  
  
"Glad you asked." Ranger Young. "Varney's Canyon is a major ravine that bisects a large portion of the park. The suspension bridge we will be crossing is a replica of an authentic nineteenth-century footbridge. It looks scary, but it is perfectly safe."  
  
Another voice from the crowd called out. "Why do we have to take a swinging bridge?"  
  
Ranger Young grinned and Buffy could see the crow's feet around her eyes. "Because hiking around the ravine turns an eight-mile hike into a twenty-four miler over very rugged, inhospitable terrain. Trust me, the bridge is safe. If you have cameras, you'll probably want pictures. Any more questions?"  
  
"Yeah," someone yelled. "What if it rains?"  
  
"Not my area," Ranger Young replied. "It's part of the experience."  
  
Ms. Brannigan stepped forward. "Thank you, Ranger Young. Let's all get on the buses."   
  
***  
  
The buses ground to a halt in the middle of a wide, gentle left-hand turn. The students piled out of the lead bus and headed toward the cargo bus. In minutes the area was a bustle of activity as packs and tents piled up beside the road. Buffy fished her pack out of the heap and checked the straps and fastenings.  
  
"Buffy!"  
  
She turned and saw Cordelia standing on the shoulder, a cylindrical bundle of blue nylon at her feet.  
  
"What?" the Slayer said, getting to her feet.   
  
Cordelia gestured at the container. "You can carry the tent."  
  
Buffy walked over to her. "Excuse? What happened to the team concept?"  
  
Cordelia shrugged. "Well, it's my tent, I brought it, and you are Supergirl, so--"  
  
Buffy clapped a hand over the other girl's mouth. "Hey! What are you thinking? All right. I'll carry the tent." She picked it up with one hand and went back to her pack. She lashed the tent to her pack frame, tugged on it to test the knots. Satisfied of its security, she slipped the pack onto her shoulders, bouncing on her toes to settle the load. She looked around and saw Cordelia struggling to put on her pack.  
  
Bryn walked by. "Hey, Cordelia, do you need a hand?"  
  
"No." Cordelia's face wore roughly the same expression as that of a mother wolf who saw her cub threatened. Bryn shrugged and walked away. Cordelia looked at Buffy. Her eyes widened and she kept making small jerking motions with her head. Buffy sighed and went to her.  
  
As she stepped behind Cordelia and picked up the pack, Buffy said, "You do know that was pathetic, don't you?"  
  
Cordelia glared at her. "Bite me."  
  
Buffy held up her hands. "And the wit keeps flowing." Ms. Brannigan's whistle pierced the air. "Well," Buffy said, "love to keep chatting, but it's time to go."  
  
***  
  
end chapter 1  



	2. the second part

"Hey, Giles, what are you doing?"  
  
He sighed but didn't look up. An open box sat on the counter. "Strange as it may seem, the school expects me to actually perform my duties as librarian from time to time." He took a book from the box, crosschecked it against a master list, then affixed a bar-coded sticker inside the back cover.  
  
Willow watched for a second, then burst out, "Giles, I really want to talk to you now!"  
  
He closed the book and pushed it to one side. "Very well."  
  
Willow wrung her hands together. "I'm worried."  
  
"About what?"  
  
Willow blew air through her nose. "I'm not sure, but I've been bothered ever since I had that... thing that told us where to find Cordelia."  
  
Giles nodded. "I would just point out that your vision did not exactly lead us to Cordelia."  
  
Willow shot him a look that let him know what she thought of his nitpicking. "Giles, focus on the real issue."  
  
He slid the book a few inches to one side and leaned on the counter, his arms crossed in front of him. "All right then. These episodes are growing in intensity, is that correct?"  
  
Willow nodded. "Yeah."  
  
"They seem more specific, less vague?" Willow nodded again. Giles pushed upright and went into the office. He returned holding piece of lined paper. Willow could see handwritten notes on it. He held the paper up. "This escalation bothered me as well, so I did some research."  
  
Willow wanted to grab the paper from his hand but restrained herself. "What did you find?"  
  
Giles shook his head and dropped the paper on the counter. "Nothing very concrete, I'm afraid, but I do have a theory or two."  
  
Willow took a deep breath. "Okay. I'd like to hear them."  
  
Giles rubbed his forehead. "I believe it's entirely possible that your near-death experience has made you even more sensitive to these... intrusions. You opened the door when you performed the spell that returned Angel's soul. When you were in that hospital bed, it opened wider." He dropped his hand and looked at her, a thin, pale girl in moss-green painter's pants. Her eyes glimmered with unspilled tears.  
  
"Why is this happening to me?" she said. "I just tried to do a good thing. That's all."  
  
"Please, Willow, for once in your life, do not trust me too quickly." Giles tapped the sheets of yellow paper. "It is only a theory."  
  
***  
The sun filtered through the thickening clouds and cast intermittent patches of light on the trees. Most of them were evergreens, old pine and fir grown high and straight, their branches breaking up the light even further until the trail was a kaleidoscope of light and shadow.  
  
Buffy took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of pine sap, dust, and fallen needles. The class filled the air with chatter and laughter. Up ahead she could make out Ms. Brannigan. The teacher was easy to spot with that guitar lashed to her pack. The woman must be strong as a horse. Buffy could not imagine toting a guitar for ten miles. The Slayer looked behind her. Cordelia was back in the pack, favoring her right foot. Buffy could see the suppressed wince in the other girl's face as she took each step.  
  
A voice floated back from around a bend in the trail. "Hey, that must be that bridge." Buffy rounded the bend and stopped. It was a suspension footbridge, all right. It must be safe. Why would they let people cross it otherwise? Still, it looked spindly as it stretched across the deep gorge. Ranger Young had called it a 'major ravine.' Buffy found herself agreeing with the ranger. It certainly looked major to her, the steep sides nearly vertical and strewn with boulders, only the occasional scrawny pine sapling clinging to the slope. It stretched away in either direction as far as Buffy could see, a gaping slash in the earth's crust.  
  
The class began to bunch up. No one seemed too eager to race across the swaying trestle. Ranger Young stepped out onto the planking and crossed at a brisk, almost speedy pace. When she reached the other side she turned and waved, a grin splitting her face. Ms. Brannigan began to send the girls across one at a time. It was going to take a while. Buffy slipped off her pack and lowered it to the ground. It made a handy chair.  
  
She looked up as a shadow fell across her. Cordelia shifted from one foot to the other.  
  
"Feet hurt?" Buffy asked.  
  
"I'll be fine," Cordelia replied in a snappish tone. Sweat trickled from her hairline and disappeared behind the lenses of her sunglasses. Buffy opened her mouth for a retort but a sudden chill raced up her spine. She stood, trying not to draw attention as she did so.  
  
"Did you feel that?" she asked Cordelia.  
  
"What?" Cordelia said.  
  
"I don't know... something weird." Buffy hugged herself and rubbed her arms in an attempt to quell the gooseflesh that had suddenly appeared.  
  
"We're in the woods," Cordelia said. "This whole thing is weird."  
  
***  
  
"What was that?" Devon asked, swinging around to look at the band. Oz looked at Doug. Doug looked at Oz. Geoff looked at both of them.  
  
"Don't we end on F sharp?" Doug asked, running a hand over his fresh buzz cut.  
  
"No," Oz said. "We end on C."  
  
"Wow," Doug said as he shook his head. "No wonder it sounded shitty."  
  
"You know," Oz said, "we've been playing this song for eight months. We should know the ending."  
  
"Hey, man, don't soil yourself." Doug pinged a couple of harmonics to test his tuning. "We'll do it again."  
  
"That's not the point." Oz struggled to keep his voice steady. "We need to do it right the first time. And get it in tune."  
  
Doug threw him a sharp look. "It's in tune."  
  
"No, it isn't. The A is still a little flat."  
  
"Fine." Doug slipped the instrument's strap over his head. "You want to play it too?"  
  
Oz murmured, "If I had four arms I would." His voice was louder than he intended. Doug flushed a dark red.  
  
"Hey, Oz?" he said. "Screw you." He slammed the bass into its stand and stalked out of the garage.  
  
Geoff tapped his drumstick together. "Uh, is rehearsal over?"  
  
***  
  
The sun was low in the sky when they came out of the woods and saw the campsite Ranger Young had selected. It was a meadow, located in the swale between two hills and carpeted in thick, ankle-deep grass that was turning yellow and crisp in the autumn air. Buffy estimated that from where she stood at the edge of the trees it was probably a hundred yards down the slope, across the floor and up into the trees opposite. To the left and right it stretched away for probably half a mile. She stepped out of the trees and felt a quick, light crawling sensation between her shoulder blades.  
  
The gaps in the clouds were narrowing; light passed through only in narrow slits. The students fanned out and began to set up camp. Buffy looked around. Cordelia was just making her way out of the trees, hobbling as though her boots were lined with hot coals. Buffy selected a spot where the incline leveled off. She let her pack fall to the ground and untied the tent.  
  
"Better hurry," she said to Cordelia, then turned her attention back to the tent. Out of the blue nylon bag, it was revealed as an enormous mass of yellow nylon and black fiberglass tubes strung on elastic.  
  
"Do you know how to set this up?" Cordelia asked, wincing as she shifted her weight.  
  
"Nooo," Buffy said. "But I'm guessing these instructions will help." She studied the sheet of paper for a few seconds, then picked up one of the fiberglass tubes. "These snap together to form the poles. Here," she thrust the assembly at Cordelia, "you do that while I figure out what to do with them once they're assembled." There were a couple of false starts, but Buffy soon figured out the procedure. She snapped the last retaining clip onto a pole and stepped back.  
  
"Do you think it's big enough?" she asked. The tent was at least ten feet long and nine feet wide.  
  
"It's the six-person model," Cordelia said as she schlepped her pack toward it. "I wanted to be able to get some distance between us."  
  
"Gee," Buffy said, unzipping the flap, "why don't you twist the knife counterclockwise now?"  
  
***  
  
The door of unit #6 was flimsy enough that a firm knock caused it to vibrate like a tuning fork. Faith yanked it open. Xander stood on the concrete pad. He wore faded cargo pants with frayed cuffs, a dark, rather shapeless sweater, and an eight-inch long cross. Faith looked at it, amused.  
  
"Y'know," she said, "size doesn't make 'em work any better."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Xander said, waving a hand. "Size doesn't matter. And chicks don't dig rich guys."  
  
Faith shrugged. "Can't argue with that. At least tuck it inside your sweater."  
  
"Boo-yaaa." Xander complied.  
  
"Just a sec." Faith disappeared from the doorway. Xander leaned forward and peeked around the frame. Faith was bending over the bed, her hand resting on Lindsay's forehead.  
  
"Lindsay," Faith said. "Lindsay, I'm going out to patrol."  
  
"Be careful," Lindsay said. Her cheeks flushed a bright red. "I wish you'd take the night off."  
  
"Hey, no can do. Lotta bad guys out there; they're not taking the night off." Faith looked back at the door and flashed a quick smile. "Besides, Xander's going with me."  
  
He gave a brief wave. "Hi. Oh, Giles said he'd come over and check on you later."  
  
"See?" Faith smiled at her Watcher. "Everything's five by five. You rest and when Giles comes over you and him can talk about Watcher stuff, okay? Meanwhile, Xander and I will be inflicting major hurt on the pointy-toothed bad guys. Ciao." She patted Lindsay's hand.  
  
"Let's go," she said as she passed Xander. "Time's a-wastin'."  
  
***  
  
Buffy picked her way through the deepening gloom. The ankle-deep grass crunched beneath her boots. Several of the girls were collecting wood for the bonfire; most of the tents had smaller fires already going. The air was filled with the smell of wood smoke and the sound of laughter. The clouds were thickening, accompanied by the first faint, almost inaudible rumblings of thunder.  
  
The mood changed when she unzipped the flap of her tent and ducked inside. A small battery-powered halogen lantern cast a bright illumination, but since it was placed on the tent floor near the back wall it was, to be charitable, a highly stylized lighting. The tent's interior was a rococo scene of white light contrasting with black, angular shadows.  
  
Cordelia sat on her sleeping bag, her boots tossed behind her. She was peeling her socks off; a process that required great care since the fluid from several large, broken blisters had effectively welded the thick cotton to her skin. Buffy tossed a small tube in her direction.  
  
"Here," the Slayer said as she stretched out on her own sleeping bag. "Put that on your feet."  
  
Cordelia picked up the ointment and eyed it with great suspicion. "Where did you get it?"  
  
Buffy stared at the roof of the tent, her arms crossed behind her head. "Does it really matter?"  
  
"Did you get it from Ms. Brannigan?"  
  
Buffy raised up on one elbow and half-turned her upper body toward Cordelia. "Yes, I got it from Ms. Brannigan. She had it in a first aid kit. Now, will you just put it on your feet?" She flopped back down.  
  
Cordelia began to spread on the unguent. To judge by the blowing and waving of hands its application entailed, it must have stung. "Jeez," Cordelia said, "is this stuff supposed to help or just burn my feet off?"  
  
Buffy muttered, "Why don't you put some on your tongue?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Nothing." Buffy listened to the sounds of Cordelia trying to relieve her discomfort. The Slayer sat up and turned toward the other girl. "How long have you known Bryn?"  
  
Cordelia waved a hand over her feet, trying to create a cooling breeze. "Since fourth grade."  
  
Buffy tried for an oh-so-casual tone. "Why don't you like her?"  
  
It did not work. Cordelia forgot her feet as she glared at the Slayer. "Why don't we quit the girl talk, okay? We're not going to bond this weekend. If you're looking for someone to play Truth or Dare, or braid your hair, or make Smores with you, leave the tent now, okay?"  
  
"You make it sound so tempting. And I'm not being sarcastic."  
  
Cordelia blew on her feet. "You don't want to be here, what's stopping you from leaving?"  
  
Buffy resisted the urge to spring across the tent and pummel the other girl. It took a great effort, but she resisted. "Look, I don't know what your problem is, but I'm not enjoying this any more than you are. We've fought the undead. Let's try not to kill each other out here in the woods." She turned as she unzipped the tent flap. "Better get your feet taken care of. It's almost time for the bonfire. I understand we're going to sing."  
  
***  
  
Oz bit his lip as he brought the measuring spoon from the Zip-Lok bag to the rim of the cup. He tipped the spoon over, emptying its contents into the mug, then tapped it twice to insure that the spoon was empty. He placed the spoon on the desk, then picked up the cup and looked inside. He shook it slightly to mix the ingredients and took a deep breath.  
  
He ran the water for few minutes. This was always easier to do if the water was lukewarm. When the temperature was right, he filled the cup and stirred it with his finger. He placed the cup on the counter. He told himself he was doing it to let the mixture steep, but he was lying to himself.  
  
He picked up the cup. No use lying to himself any longer. He looked at his reflection in the mirror over the sink, raised the cup and said, "Cheers." He drank the mixture in one long swallow, shuddered as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and fought the urge to spit in the sink.  
  
When the shudders passed, he looked at his reflection again and said, "I hope you think this is worth it."  
  
***  
  
"I don't see anything, do you?" Xander looked around the cemetery, a stake clutched in one hand.  
  
"No, and we've covered almost every inch of this cemetery." Faith looked around, trying to will some vampires into existence.  
  
"So we're almost done?"  
  
She looked at him. "No. After we're finished here, we have two parks and the Bronze. Didn't you say you'd been on patrol with Buffy?"  
  
Xander shrugged. "Yeah, but by now she's usually killed the bad guys and we're headed home."  
  
Faith looked disgusted. "Well, jeez, where's the fun in that?"  
  
Xander held up his hand, the thumb and forefinger very close together. "Is it possible that you enjoy this a little too much?"  
  
Faith grinned. "Hey, as far as I'm concerned, there's no such thing as too much. Get the bag." She hiked off into the night as Xander hustled to keep pace, the Slayer bag thumping against his leg.  
  
As they entered the park, Xander felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. A park was always fertile vamp territory, probably because it provided so many stationary, defenseless targets. He rummaged in the bag and pulled out the crossbow. Faith gave him a look.  
  
"Better safe than sorry," he said.  
  
"Yeah, well, be careful," she said. "I don't want to find an arrow sticking out of my ass."  
  
Xander had no reply for that, so he followed her into the park, the weapon in his right hand and the bag slung over his left shoulder. The area around the playground equipment was clear. Faith stood by the teeter-totter, looking around as she pushed down on the upraised end. Her head abruptly snapped to the left. The teeter-totter continued its lazy inversion.  
  
"Come on," she said, "I hear something over here." She raced away down a walking trail.  
  
Whatever sense Slayers had for finding vamps was accurate once again. Xander rounded a curve in the path and skidded to a halt; Faith had already found and engaged the target. The male vamp was half-a-head taller than her and outweighed her by a good hundred pounds. He was also no novice. He blocked Faith's first attack and countered with a quick left-right combo followed by a side kick. The Slayer slipped the punches, but the kick caught her a glancing blow on the right shoulder and spun her half-around. The vamp closed on her, but she jabbed back with an elbow and caught him in the solar plexus. She dropped and swept her left leg around, but the vamp had the presence of mind and the agility to hop over the maneuver. Faith sprang back, putting some distance between them.  
  
Xander watched open-mouthed as they joined again. Faith's speed and strength were astounding, even compared to Buffy, but the vamp's advantage in height and weight kept her from exploiting her skills to the fullest. The vamp's strategy became clear; he was willing to trade non-lethal blows in order to get close to her and punish the body. He landed two solid shots to the ribs in one exchange and Faith reeled back. A wicked grin-'Do vampires have any other kind?' flashed across Xander's mind-creased his ghoulish face as he moved in for the finish.  
  
Ducking or retreating would be the textbook moves, but instead Faith ran at her foe and leaped into the air, planted her hands on the vamp's shoulders and executed a complete flip. She landed with knees bent, whirled, and grabbed her opponent, her arms shooting around his shoulders and her hands locking behind his neck in a full nelson. The vamp screamed and jerked his head back and forth to no avail. He relaxed, then planted his feet firmly and began to push back. His superior height gave him enough leverage to bend Faith backwards.  
  
"Hey," she shouted, her voice revealing the strain of holding the demon, "little help."  
  
Xander snapped out of his fog and lifted the crossbow. Faith's eyes grew large and round as her life flashed before her. "No, you dumbass! Stake! I need a stake!" He dropped the crossbow and scrambled for the bag. The crossbow landed on its stock; the impact jarred the trigger mechanism and the weapon discharged with a loud twang. The bolt shot straight up into the air. Xander pulled a stake from the bag and turned toward Faith, his feet slipping on the grass as he started to run to her. He caught himself before he went sprawling and managed to keep his feet. Faith's hands were beginning to slip by the time he reached them. He plunged the stake into the vamp's chest. The demon screamed but did not disintegrate. Xander pulled out the stake, stabbed again and missed again. The vampire threw back his head and roared. Xander bit his lower lips and thrust again. This strike was true and in a heartbeat he stood there, stake still in hand and pointing at Faith.  
  
The Slayer grimaced, flexed her hands and arms, and then snatched the stake from him. "Thanks, but you could have been a little faster."  
  
"Hey, I'll admit it wasn't my finest hour, but--"  
  
"Forget it." Faith pushed past him and chucked the stake into the bag. "The job got done. Don't sweat. But what were you thinking with the crossbow? You could have killed me."  
  
Xander shrugged and at that precise moment the crossbow bolt plummeted from the sky and buried itself in the ground between them. Xander stuck his tongue in his cheek, then said, "I don't suppose that's going to look good on my resume either, is it?"  
  
Faith rolled her eyes. "Hey, no harm no foul."  
  
***  
  
Lindsay Maeda raised her head from the pillow. "Just a second," she said, wrapping the blanket around her as she shuffled to the door. She covered her mouth with her right hand to stifle a cough as she opened the door with her left.  
  
"My goodness," Rupert Giles said, "you should be in bed."  
  
"I was," Lindsay said and sniffled as she shambled across the room and crawled back under the covers.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry," Giles said as he stepped into the room. "But from Faith's description you sounded near death."  
  
Lindsay smiled. "Faith tends toward the melodramatic."  
  
"Still, you're definitely under the weather. Are you taking any medication?"  
  
Lindsay punched her pillow with her right hand. "Not really. It hit pretty sudden."  
  
"Well," Giles said, "I've brought you a few things." He reached into the bag he carried with his left arm. "Here is some, ah, Sudafed, Excedrin Cold and Flu, and my mother's personal remedy." He placed the bottles on the dresser.  
  
"Mr. Giles," Lindsay asked, "are you trying to get me drunk?"  
  
"What?" Giles caught her meaning and flushed a deep red. "No, no, of course not. I assure you that nothing of that sort entered my mind. I simply... My mother always believed that a shot of whiskey with a tablespoon of honey to be a very effective remedy."  
  
"Probably not that much different from Ny-Quil," Lindsay said. "Sorry about embarrassing you."  
  
Giles made a noncommittal hand gesture. "It's all right. Working with American teenagers should have made me immune by now. Can I get you anything?"  
  
"A couple of the Excedrin," Lindsay said. "Then pull up a chair. Maybe there's something good on TV."  
  
***  
  
The last chord floated away across the meadow, its shimmering harmonies expanding until they stretched into gossamer thread of sound, then broke apart into thousands of tinkling echoes that drifted off in the cool breeze. The bonfire snapped and hurled sparks into the air, its orange glow mirrored on the faces of the laughing girls. To her surprise, Buffy was laughing as hard as anyone. When Ms. Brannigan had hauled out her battered Baby Taylor guitar many of the girls had rolled their eyes, but the teacher had a surprisingly sweet, strong voice and her repertoire was not what they'd expected. Buffy had no idea who Tom Paxton was, but he could definitely write a funny song.  
  
Ms. Brannigan placed the guitar in its padded gig bag. "Well," she said, turning to her charges, "I think it's about time for us to turn in tonight. We'll be up with the sun tomorrow morning and we have a full day ahead of us, so try and get plenty of sleep."  
  
The group began to scatter as Buffy switched on her flashlight and headed for the tent. The beam passed across a taller figure walking ahead of her. "Hey, Cordelia," Buffy called, "wait up."  
  
The declaration was unnecessary; Buffy caught the limping Cordelia with ease. "How's the feet?" Buffy asked, shining her flashlight on the appendages in question. Cordelia had foregone shoes. Instead she wore thick, absorbent socks and Teva sandals with all the Velcro straps unfastened. Her gait was somewhere between a hobble, and a shuffle.  
  
"You want me to carry you?" Buffy asked. She didn't need the flashlight to feel the glare that Cordelia threw at her. The Slayer felt a tinge of guilt about the smile that crept over her face.  
  
They crawled into the tent. Cordelia snapped on the lantern as Buffy flopped on her sleeping bag and unlaced her boots. She glanced across the tent and her fingers froze. As Cordelia peeled off her socks Buffy could see the bright, shiny pink patches where the blisters had burst, leaving raw flesh. Small strands of white skin, the remains of the top layer, curled around the edges of the wounds and clung to the thick layer of ointment. A large blood blister had formed on the little toe of the right foot. Angry abrasions ringed Cordy's ankles.  
  
Buffy looked away, concentrating on removing her own socks. Feet bare, she wiggled her toes, her perfect, unblemished toes. She glanced to her left. Cordelia was re-applying salve to her feet. Buffy slipped out of her shorts and into her sleeping bag. Turning her back on the other girl, she closed her eyes.  
  
***  
  
Lindsay woke with a start. The room was dark, lit only by the glow from the television. She blinked, unable to recognize the program, then looked across the room. Giles sat in a chair, right leg crossed over left as he watched the show. Some of Lindsay's movements must have caught his eye. He looked at her, miniature images of the TV reflected in his glasses.  
  
"Ah, you're awake," he said, stating the obvious.  
  
"Yeah," Lindsay said, her voice raspy in a dry throat. She pointed at the television. "What's on?"  
  
Giles looked at the TV briefly, then back to her. "Shadow of a Doubt. In my opinion, Hitchcock's best movie and one of Joseph Cotton's best performances."  
  
Lindsay shook her head. "Don't know it. Must be before my time."  
  
"A bit before my time as well. Although not as far."  
  
Lindsay glanced down at the blankets then at Giles. "I don't know any good way to say this, so I'm just going to be blunt. I have to go to the bathroom, and I'm not exactly dressed for company."  
  
"What? Oh, I'm sorry." Giles stood and began to turn his chair to the wall.  
  
"Mr. Giles," Lindsay said, "I'd really rather you bring me my robe. It's hanging on the back of the bathroom door."  
  
"Yes. Certainly." Giles crossed the room with all deliberate speed and disappeared into the bathroom. He came out with the robe held in front of him like a matador. He dropped it on the bed and returned to his chair, turning his face to the wall, not turning back to the television until he heard the bathroom door close.  
  
Lindsay came out in a few minutes, looking a little shaky. "I think my fever's down," she said as she slipped back into bed. "A couple of days and I should be good as new."  
  
"That's good." Giles looked at the screen and rubbed his hands together. "I'd like to apologize for the bit of farce involving your robe. I don't know what came over me."  
  
Lindsay smiled in spite of her greasy hair and body aches. "You're a nice man, that's what came over you. Just be glad you don't have to deal with Faith. That girl has a lot of good points, but modesty isn't one of them." The look on Giles's face caused her to laugh in spite of her illness. "I'm sorry," she said as she pointed at the TV. "I didn't mean to embarrass you again. Now, what's this movie about?"  
  
"Ah." Giles leaned forward, pointing. "The girl is Little Charlie Newton. She's named for her favorite Uncle Charlie. He's played by Joseph Cotten..."  
  
***  
  
The Bronze was free of vampires but crowded with high school students. Xander looked around at the crowd on the dance floor and tried not to burst into flames.  
  
He was the center of attention, or rather, his partner was. Faith shook and shimmied to the music, glimpses of her face visible through a curtain of dark hair. Every so often her hands would rake the hair back, an act that seemed to fascinate a large percentage of the male patrons. She did not notice; Faith was lost in the rhythm. Xander was no fool. He might have been there, but Faith was dancing with herself. He was just a prop to occupy space.  
  
The song ended. Faith's eyes unglazed and focused on him. "How about something to drink?" she said. Xander headed for the bar. By the time he reached their table, five guys already surrounded Faith. He stood on the periphery, drinks in hand. Faith caught his eye over the heads of her admirers.  
  
"Xan," she shouted. "Pull up a chair." Her hangers-on parted so he could slide into the chair. "Tell you what, guys," she said as her fingers pulled her sweat-soaked shirt away from her body, "why don't you give us some space?" They grumbled, but word of Faith's method of dealing with unwanted male attention had made the rounds and they left. She took a long drink and slumped back in her chair, eyes closed.  
  
"Man," she said, "every so often you gotta just party like a brain-damaged test monkey." Xander watched the sweat trickle down her neck and collect in the hollow of her throat, then spill over and disappear beneath her shirt. He swallowed hard.  
  
"I... I'm surprised you got rid of those guys," he said.  
  
"Nah." She opened her eyes and leaned forward. "They're just meat. You and me, on the other hand, we've shared a kill." She winked and leaned back.  
  
"Oh," Xander said. "I suppose it's a step up from spitting in our hands before we shake."  
  
"No, I'm serious." Faith looked at him and the distinct image of a tigress watching an antelope while she sprawled across a rock flashed across Xander's mind. "You showed some pretty serious nad out there. Although I still might kick your ass for the crossbow."  
  
"Tell you what, I'll carry it tomorrow night and not threaten your life a single time." Xander's statement surprised him.  
  
It must have jolted Faith a little too. "Already looking forward to tomorrow night?" She took a drink and placed the cup on the table. She ran an index finger around the mug's rim. "I, uh, I..." She sat back and looked away, then tried again. "About you and Cordelia... I..." She clenched her fists, eyes closed. "Shit, I so suck at this."  
  
"My, but you are the glib one." Xander took a sip and made a point of looking at one of the posters on the wall.  
  
"So, what is it with you and her?" Faith asked.  
  
Xander shrugged. "I don't know. It's a thing."  
  
"What sort of thing?" Faith's forearms rested on the table, her hands cupping her elbows as she leaned forward.  
  
"A thing."  
  
"Doesn't sound like much of a thing."  
  
Xander ducked his head, his fingers combing through the hair on the left side. "It's complicated. I used to think I knew Cordelia. We all did. She was the queen and we were the peasants. Then she got drawn into our little circle of shame and it was like I could see another side of her."  
  
One side of Faith's mouth lifted. "That's when you guys hooked up."  
  
"Are you using hooked up in the sense of hooked up or..." Xander made a circle with his left thumb and index finger and hooked the index finger of his right hand through it.  
  
Faith rolled her eyes. "That's when you guys started dating, okay?"  
  
Xander nodded. "Yeah. But instead of knowing more about her, I think I know less. There are parts of her that are just... opaque."  
  
"Like the virgin thing?"  
  
Xander took a deep breath. "You can't leave that alone, can you? But you're right. I didn't know. I had no inkling. Now I wonder what else I don't know."  
  
***  
  
"Wow," Lindsay said, "that was really good." She wiped her nose with a tissue.  
  
"I told you." Giles snapped off the television. "I'm sorry I kept you up so late."  
  
Lindsay waved off his apology. "I'm sorry I fell asleep on you earlier." Her hand plucked at the thin spread. "It was nice having someone in the room, at least someone I wasn't responsible for."  
  
Giles nodded. "I understand. Being a Watcher may be a high calling, but I wonder about its effect on mental health."  
  
"Yeah, being so bonded and identified with one person." Lindsay glanced toward the door. "It's so easy to lose yourself."  
  
Giles rested his weight on the dresser, one foot still on the floor. "I come from a long line of Watchers. What about you?"  
  
Lindsay's eyes widened. "Me? Oh no. I'm a recruit. I spent a semester studying in London, and that's where they found me."  
  
"Really." Giles tapped his upper lip with a forefinger.  
  
"Yeah. And then I'm finishing up my Ph.D. at Brown and mailing out resumes when they contact me and tell me to get to Boston and find the next Slayer. I went and the rest is, you know." Lindsay tried to stifle a yawn.  
  
"You need rest," Giles said, standing up. "And I must be going."  
  
***  
  
"...so because somebody spends four years in a paper hat asking 'You want fries with that?' they get to call it life experience? He gets to put that on a college application. Meanwhile, I've been devoting my evenings to stealth and world saving. I've got to think that would impress a prospective employer." Xander swatted at a low-hanging branch. "So what I'm asking is, can I get some kind of credit for this?"  
  
"Do you think about this all the time?" Faith was equal parts irritated and fascinated.  
  
"A lot, yeah." Xander looked at the sidewalk. "I'd like to put it in the yearbook, y'know, 'Skulking 3,4.' I need something on my activities list."  
  
"And you were asking if I took this too seriously?" Faith shook her head. "At least I know why I do it."  
  
"Why?" Xander asked.  
  
"Why what?"  
  
"Why do you do it?"  
  
Faith thought, then tossed her head. "Because I'm the Slayer. Lindsay showed up at my school one day and some of my friends who were actually there told me she was looking for me. The next day I meet her at a diner and that night I'm in a cemetery watching something I'd only seen in movies come clawing out of the dirt. Lindsay tells me it's my job to kill it. I ask how, she just tosses me a stake. The vampire comes charging at me and bam! It's like the light bulb goes on. He's going down and I'm the one to do it." Faith grinned at the memory. "It was a wicked rush. I looked at Lindsay and she said 'That's the job' and I said 'Where do I sign up?' I was ten feet tall and bulletproof."  
  
They came to an intersection. Xander pointed to the right. "I'm down this way." He shuffled his feet. "I, uh, I enjoyed it." His voice rose at the end of the sentence, giving it the shading of a question.  
  
"Me too." Faith grinned. "Good to run with new blood. You still up for it tomorrow night?"  
  
"Uh, yeah." Xander glanced in the direction of his house. "Soooo, I'll see you at school."  
  
Faith smirked. "Yeah, I guess. See, there's the difference between us. You think the vampires are weird. I think school is. That's what I never expected about this gig." She took two steps away and turned back. "Hey, thanks for the dancing, too." She did a slow hip shake. "Maybe we can do that tomorrow night too." She disappeared into the night.  
  
Xander stood there on the corner, feeling the concrete beneath his shoes and the breeze on his cheek. His nerves hummed and he could hear the blood rushing through his ears.  
  
"Get a grip," he said aloud.  
  
***  
  
Buffy's eyes snapped open, staring into the dark. The sky was tinted a dark, murky yellow...  
  
She realized that she was looking at the roof of the tent. The illumination came from the dying bonfire. She turned her head to the left. She could make out Cordelia's silhouette; the other girl's feet were elevated on her pack. Buffy looked back up at the tent. Why was she awake? After the bus ride, the hike and the evening activities, she should be sleeping like a log.  
  
Instead she slipped on her boots and crept out of the tent. The night was cool and smelled of coming rain. The breeze was stronger and thick, woolly clouds obscured the sky. The occasional rumble of thunder followed a flash of lightning. Buffy looked around, rubbing her arms to keep warm.  
  
Lightning flashed and something flickered at the edge of her peripheral vision. She turned, looking out across the meadow. The lightning arced across the sky again, and she saw them. Six figures raced across the meadow. They were thin and angular and moving much faster than human beings. They were heading toward the tents. Lightning flashed again and they slowed ever so slightly.  
  
Buffy screamed, "Cordelia!" as she searched the ground for a weapon. She continued shouting until the tent flap opened and Cordelia's head appeared.  
  
"What?" she said in a voice thick with sleep.  
  
"Wake everybody up," Buffy said, hefting a branch a little smaller than her forearm.  
  
"Why?" Cordelia mumbled. Buffy pointed. Cordelia saw the figures. They were much closer. Buffy placed one end of the stick on the ground and stomped. The branch cracked, creating a functional if rather inelegant stake. Buffy's shouts had roused some campers; voices could be heard coming from tents. Cordelia stumbled out of the tent and began to limp from tent to tent, yelling at everyone to get out.  
  
There was no time for more warning. As the girls began to straggle out of their shelters their attackers were on them. Lightning flashed as the creatures reached the tents; Buffy had an impression of a vaguely human face, but very long and angular, with a pointed chin and high, jutting cheekbones. Long arms ended in appendages that might have been hands, but which most definitely had claws. They moved with a speed that even Buffy found daunting. She swung her makeshift weapon at the leader and missed completely.  
  
After that it was just a rolling brawl lit by flashes of lightning. Most of the girls were paralyzed with fear. A few picked up rocks and sticks and tried to fight. Buffy raced through the melee, punching, kicking, stabbing. One of them had a girl pinned to the ground. The Slayer slammed her stake through its back. It screamed and whirled, swiping at her with grimy claws. She flipped back, the stake pulling free. As she came to her feet, she saw Deena swing a long black flashlight at one of the attackers. The blow missed, but as the beam passed across her foe it flinched. Buffy looked around and realized that the monsters were avoiding the center of the campsite.  
  
"The fire," she screamed. "Get to the fire!" An agonizing stretch of time passed before the other girls understood her instructions. They bunched around the guttering flames.  
  
"Quick," Buffy said, glancing over her shoulder. "More wood." The others began to toss fuel from the gathered pile onto the blaze. Soon the flames caught and rose higher. The creatures began to prowl around the outside of the area. Buffy relaxed for a moment, but then she realized that these things weren't going away. Their circuits were growing smaller. As the students realized this, they packed in tighter. Buffy remained outside the crowd, watching the creatures as they circled. A high-pitched gibbering filled the air. Buffy felt someone beside her and turned, arm raised to strike.  
  
"Whoa," Deena said, the black flashlight held in her right hand. Her left arm dangled at a strange angle. One of the attackers swooped forward. Buffy turned, but Deena was closer. She brought the flashlight down on its head and it swooned back, screaming with pain. It fell to its knees and two others rushed forward to drag it away. The others surged forward. Apparently their anger had overcome their fear and loathing.  
  
The light went on over Buffy's head, or rather the flashlight went on over Buffy's head. "Flashlights," she shouted. "Point your flashlights at their eyes!"  
  
Deena did so without hesitation. The yellow-white beam caught the leader full in the face. The creature growled and veered off course. The other girls noticed; lights began to pierce the darkness. Perhaps a third of the students had flashlights, but that was enough. The attackers began to retreat, swatting and pawing at the air in front of them. Whenever a beam slipped away from a face, that monster would advance, only to halt when the light struck it again.  
  
"Group up," Bryn shouted. "Each group concentrate on one of them. We can run them off." The girls responded, splitting into squads of three or four. Some of those who had no flashlight grabbed burning sticks from the fire. It was all very Frankenstein as they drove the creatures away. When they reached the edge of the campsite the fiends abandoned their assault completely and raced back across the meadow. Buffy watched them as they fled, straining to see them in the midnight dark.  
  
As the adrenaline rush faded and the immediate danger passed, sounds of crying began to ripple through the group. Buffy turned back to the camp. It was an eerie sight. Girls sat on the ground, heads in hands. Some wandered about looking shell-shocked. Worst of all, several lay on the ground, arms and legs outstretched. By the garish, flickering orange light of the fire Buffy could make out dark pools around the bodies, puddles that were already soaking into the trampled earth. The ghostly wails of the living floated above the tableau, disembodied and chilling.  
  
"Are you all right?" The voice startled Buffy. She jerked in alarm, then calmed herself. She turned. Bryn stood just behind her.  
  
"Yeah," the Slayer said, taking deep breaths. "Everything seems to be working."  
  
Bryn looked around the group. She took Buffy by the arm and pulled her to one side. "This is bad," the taller girl said. "What was that?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "I have no idea." That much was completely true.  
  
"Did you see them coming?" Bryn swallowed.  
  
"I was outside. I had to use the bathroom." Buffy shivered a little, partly from cold but mostly from her body's attempts to relax. She was suddenly very, very tired. Bryn ducked her head. It took Buffy a second to realize that the other girl was crying.  
  
"Hey, hey." Buffy gripped Bryn by the arms, bending down so she could look into the girl's face. "We made it. They're gone. We'll be all right. You've got to pull it together. We've got to get through the night. Fall apart tomorrow. We need to find out who's hurt and how badly. Can you do that?" Bryn said nothing; she dissolved into sobs. Buffy looked around. The girls had gathered into small groups, holding each as they cried. There was one exception, one solitary figure that stood apart from the crowd. Cordelia looked at Buffy and the Slayer could read the challenge on Queen C's face: what are you going to do now?  
  
Buffy ignored her. "Bryn. Bryn. I know this is hard. But we can't break down. Where's Ms. Brannigan?"  
  
Bryn shook her head, tears flying into the night air. "I don't know. I haven't seen her."  
  
"Then go and find her. Find Ranger Young, too. People are hurt. We need to help them, okay?"  
  
Bryn nodded, her sobs diminished to sniffles. "I'll go find them." She stumbled off into the night. Buffy slipped around the group to look at the bodies. The first one was a girl with dark hair and braces. She lay just in front of her tent, a gaping hole where her throat had been. The Slayer closed her eyes for a second to fight off a wave of dizziness. A hand touched her on the shoulder. She opened her eyes and saw Bryn. The look on the taller girl's face was not encouraging.  
  
"I found them," Bryn said in bleak, flat voice. "They're both hurt really bad. They might even be dying."  
  
Buffy nodded. "Okay, Bryn, you have to take charge. You've got to tell everyone what to do."  
  
Bryn's eyes widened. "Why me?"  
  
Buffy touched the girl's shoulder. "Because they'll listen to you. Can you do it?"  
  
Bryn swallowed, an action that took some effort. "I'll try."  
  
"Okay. Find someone who knows something about first aid. Take them to where Ms. Brannigan is. She had a first aid kit, so did Ranger Young. Find those and start treating who you can."  
  
"Okay." Bryn bit her lip and walked away. Buffy watched her for a moment, then turned. She saw Cordelia watching her. Buffy motioned for the other girl to join her. Cordelia showed no great enthusiasm as she approached.  
  
"How the hell did those things get here?" Cordelia asked.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "I don't know, but they're here. Listen, stay with Bryn. Help her out."  
  
"What?"  
  
Buffy's anger flared. "Cordelia, put a sock in it. I don't give a damn what your issues with Bryn are. You know what's out there. She doesn't. Help her take care of the injuries, and while you're at it, see if you can find Ranger Young's radio." Cordelia's eyes practically shot sparks, but she turned to go. Buffy said, "Cordy."  
  
Cordelia looked over her shoulder. "What?"  
  
"See if you can find anything else that might be helpful."  
  
Cordelia snorted. "Like what?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you'll know it when you see it. And remember, it can't get any worse."  
  
There a simultaneous blue-white flash of lightning and a ripping crack of thunder. Something hit Buffy on top of her head, then the sky opened and the downpour began.  
Cordelia looked at Buffy. "Oh yeah?" the cheerleader asked, then walked away into the rain. Buffy turned and faced the forest, watching as the water streamed down her face.  
  



	3. the third part

Buffy tied the knot and stepped back, rubbing her lower back. The rain fell in a thick curtain of fat, heavy drops that plummeted to earth as fast and hard as gravity could draw them. Buffy didn't mind the rain; the water hid her tears as she tended to the bodies, carrying them out of the circle of tents and wrapping them in tarps and ground cloths.  
  
She took one last look at her morbid handiwork, then returned to the center of camp. Girls were still outside in spite of the downpour. The fire had been stoked to a roaring blaze highlighted by the hissing of the rain as it met the flames. Those who weren't carrying wood were moving back and forth through the area. Some seemed to have a purpose; many did not. The injured were gathered in front of one tent. The tent glowed with strong illumination; a lantern or three must have been in use.  
  
Buffy held out her arms, letting the rain pound down and wash away the caked-on blood. The worst of the gore was gone by the time Bryn approached her. "How bad is it?" Buffy asked.  
  
Bryn shrugged. "Tricia's in charge of the injuries. She's had a couple of first aid courses." She pointed at the brightly-lit tent. "She's taking care of them in there."  
  
"How's Ms. Brannigan?"  
  
Bryn shook her head. "Still unconscious. Tricia says her breathing's shallow and her pulse is thready."  
  
Buffy ran her hands over her head, squeezing water out of her hair in a quixotic gesture. "We'll take Tricia's word for it, she knows more than I do. What about Ranger Young?"  
  
"Pretty sure she's broken her... What's that big bone? The one in your thigh?"  
  
"I don't know," Buffy said. "I suck at anatomy."  
  
"She's lost a lot of blood and she's pretty out of it from shock and pain." Bryn wiped rain out of her eyes. "I found her radio, but there's so much interference from the storm that I can't raise anyone. We're pretty much on our own for tonight."  
  
Buffy nodded. "Looks like it."  
  
Bryn looked uncomfortable, then blurted, "Thanks for taking care of the... the..." She shuddered. "I can't do this." Buffy said nothing. Bryn's trembling subsided. "How... how many?" she asked.  
  
Buffy looked off in the direction of the bodies, an unconscious gesture. "Seven." Bryn covered her mouth with her hand. Buffy looked at her. "Any other major injuries?"  
  
The need to focus seemed to improve Bryn's emotional state. "Deena's got a broken arm. There's a broken leg, three or four ankle sprains, a bunch of cuts and bruises, and Jennifer Stewart stuck a tent pole through her calf."  
  
They stood in the rain as time seemed to stand still. The noise of the storm muffled sound and the flashes of lightning gave movement a weird strobing effect. Buffy spoke first.  
  
"How long will Tricia be?" she asked.  
  
"She's almost done," Bryn replied.  
  
"Everyone needs to get inside, out of the rain. Be good if they could go to bed."  
  
"Do you think we should? What if they come back?" Bryn sounded equal parts startled and afraid.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "If they were coming back, they'd have done it right after the attack, when we were scared and disorganized."  
  
"I don't think anyone will sleep."  
  
"They will." Buffy turned toward her tent. "When the adrenaline's gone their bodies will shut down." She heard Bryn begin telling everyone to go to bed. Inside her tent, Buffy turned on the lantern and rummaged through their things. The tent hummed with the sound of the rain. She had just found what she was looking for when Cordelia came in, just as soaked and bedraggled-looking as Buffy.  
  
"What are you doing?" Cordelia asked.  
  
"Looking for the extra ground cloth," Buffy said, holding up the tarp. She crawled across the tent, dragging it behind her. Cordelia squeezed to the side to let her pass.  
  
"You're not going outside," Cordelia said, her voice ripe with disbelief.  
  
Buffy looked over her shoulder. "I don't think those things are coming back, but if they do, I'll be waiting for them." She crawled out of the tent and stood. The campsite was vacant. Everyone was in a tent. Buffy left the camp and went up the rise to the edge of the forest. She crouched, throwing the ground cloth over her head, her hands holding it closed at her throat.  
  
She sat there watching the camp. The rain began to subside, dropping from a downpour to a steady shower. A lone girl moved across the campground, slipping between the tents and hobbling up the slope. She stopped, looking around, then approached the spot where Buffy was.  
  
"Here," Cordelia said.  
  
"What is it?" Buffy asked. "Hemlock?"  
  
"No," Cordelia said. "It's a Coke. I thought you could use the caffeine."  
  
Buffy took a drink, then nodded toward the camp. "Everyone asleep?"  
  
Cordelia looked back and shrugged. "More like passed out, I think."  
  
Buffy took another drink. "You should get some sleep."  
  
Cordelia bit her lip. "I thought... I mean, it's really not that long until morning."  
  
Buffy held up one edge of the tarp. "Pull up a chair."  
  
Cordelia slipped under the ground cloth and pulled it around her, bringing their heads close together. Buffy sniffed the air.  
  
"Hey," she said, "how come you smell so good?"  
  
***  
  
There was no real sunrise. Rather the inky, rain-soaked blackness gradually lightened into a cloud-choked murk. The meadow was swathed in heavy mist, the forest filled with the pattering of droplets falling from the trees, and Buffy and Cordelia were asleep, leaning against each other beneath the tarp.  
  
Buffy's nose twitched, she grunted, and her eyes opened. Her right arm was numb. She turned her head to look at it and found herself staring into Cordelia's eyes. They locked gazes for an instant, then Buffy's head jerked to the left, her hand flying up to her face.  
  
"Gross," Cordelia said.   
  
"That can't be your breath," Buffy said. "Did something crawl down your throat and die?"  
  
They threw off the tarp and got to their feet, moving stiffly. Buffy felt a twinge in her neck and tightness in her hip. Not even a Slayer could sleep sitting up on wet ground without paying the price. They stumbled into camp unnoticed; everyone else was still asleep. The two of them crawled into the tent, collapsed on their sleeping bags and tore open a box of granola bars. Buffy was halfway through her third one when her eyelids abruptly slammed shut.  
  
She was awakened by a gruesome noise, the sound of someone being strangled. She sat bolt upright, wincing as her neck protested, and realized that the sound was Cordelia brushing her teeth. Buffy could not think of anything better to do, so she fished her own toothbrush out of her pack and scrambled outside. She said nothing to Cordelia, but the two of them eyed each other warily as they attended to their teeth.  
  
Buffy was spitting out the last of the toothpaste as Bryn approached across the trampled ground. The rest of the camp was beginning to stir, girls squinting at each other and stumbling around as though they'd forgotten how to walk. The shock of last night's attack was still very much with them.  
  
"What's the sitch?" Buffy said.  
  
Bryn ran a hand through her hair. "There's good news and bad news. The good news is I was finally able to get through to the ranger station on the radio."  
  
"What's the bad?" Buffy asked.  
  
"They can't send the rescue helicopter. The weather has everything grounded. I guess the storm's even worse down there. They're trying to send a team over the trail, but it's going to take time."  
  
Buffy frowned. "It's ten miles. How long can it take?"  
  
Bryn sighed. "They have to get the team together, with all their supplies, then send them out in the storm. They seemed to think it might not be today."   
  
"So we have to spend another night out here?" Cordelia's question was directed at Buffy.  
  
"I don't know." The Slayer sounded irritated. She turned to Bryn. "Do we?"  
  
Bryn looked exhausted and stretched to her breaking point. "I don't think we have any choice. We have people to hurt to move." She pointed at Cordelia's feet. "Do you want to try hiking out on those?"  
  
Cordelia looked at Buffy. "But what about the--"  
  
Buffy cut her off. "Did they have any idea about what happened last night?"  
  
Bryn shook her head. "They said that whatever it was probably wouldn't come back. Still, I think we should take precautions."  
  
Buffy nodded. "Just tell us what to do." She shot a sharp look at Cordelia.  
  
"Sure, whatever we can do." Cordelia's enthusiasm sounded wholly false to Buffy, but Bryn was too worn down to notice.  
  
"Thanks," she said. "I'm going to see how the... the people who are hurt are doing." She stood there for a moment, then executed an awkward turn and left.  
  
Cordelia waited until Bryn was only just out of earshot. "What are you, crazy? Why does she get to be in charge? You should be in charge."  
  
Buffy watched Bryn walk away. "I want her giving the orders."  
  
"Oh really? Why?"  
  
"Because everyone respects her. Everyone will listen to her." Buffy headed toward the tent. "And because we won't be here."  
  
"They would listen to you." Cordelia's tone began to edge toward outrage. "You could-- Wait a minute." She began to limp after the Slayer. "We won't be here?" She crawled into the tent. Buffy was already reclining on her sleeping bag.  
  
"Bryn can do everything right, and it still won't be enough. Whatever those things are, they'll come back tonight, and they'll kill everyone. Only I won't let them. I'm going out there and getting them first."  
  
Cordelia's eyes narrowed. "Again, where does 'we' enter into this?"  
  
Buffy turned toward her and smiled. "You'll be out there with me."  
  
***  
  
Xander dropped the final coin into the slot then waved his hands in a mystical manner. The coins jangled through the machine's innards as he waited. The machine emitted a short buzz and Xander's hand shot out, slamming into the button as fast as he could move it. There was a moment of stasis, then the machine belched out four sodas. "Yesssssss," he said as he collected his bounty.  
  
"Isn't that a little more sugar than you need?" Willow asked.  
  
Xander grinned. "Are you kidding? This might get me through until lunch." He stuffed three of the cans into the pocket of his cargo pants and popped the tab on the remaining one.  
  
"How did the patrolling go last night?" Willow said as she walked beside him.  
  
He shrugged. "Not bad. We killed a bad guy, not each other, so it was a good."  
  
Willow nodded, her mouth a wide, thin line. "Well, that's nice."  
  
"Oh, yeah." Xander took another drink. "We're going again tonight."  
  
Willow's forehead creased. "Is that a good idea?"  
  
Xander turned on her as the student body flowed around them. "What is this, Will? Did you suddenly become my mom? As I recall, you didn't want me hanging with you and Oz, so what's with the interest?"  
  
Willow leaned back, startled. "I don't... I just... Well, it just seems strange for you two to be bonding after some of the things she said when Cordelia was missing."  
  
Xander shook his head as he resumed walking. "Will, didn't I make an ass of myself then, too?"  
  
Willow thought about that. She had to nod. "Yeah, you did."  
  
"And we're still buds, right?"  
  
"Yeaaaahhhhhh." Willow frowned. She could see where this was heading and she wasn't sure she liked it.  
  
"Yeah, Faith took a few shots, but I'm big enough to overlook that. I'm not infallible, are you?" He was walking backwards in front of her, arms spread wide. Students were ducking and weaving to avoid him. "I'm just trying to lend a hand."  
  
***  
  
"Me?" Cordelia's voice climbed the scale. "Why me?"  
  
"Because you've done this before."  
  
Cordelia spread her arms wide. "But I haven't liked it... or been very good at it."  
  
Buffy's voice was firm. "It's got to be you."  
  
"But... but I'm injured." Cordelia pushed her legs out in front of her and gestured at her feet.  
  
"I don't need you to outrun these things. You saw how fast they can move. On your best day you couldn't do it." Buffy sat on her sleeping bag, thinking. Cordelia fumed. The Slayer watched her for a minute then said, "Cordelia, you're all I've got, so chant your mantra, put a collar on your inner bitch, just do whatever you have to do to be ready."  
  
Cordelia scowled. "I knew this trip was a bad idea. I knew it."  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Just think of it as a teamwork exercise."  
  
***  
  
Buffy dropped the last armful of wood onto the pile behind the tent. This action was being repeated around the campsite. Buffy conceded that Bryn's idea was solid; if these things were wary of fire, then in addition to the bonfire a ring of fires would be constructed outside the cluster of tents. Buffy brushed off bits of bark and dust and glanced up at the sky. It was still a low,solid wall of steel-gray, but the fog had thinned and the lightning was gone.  
  
Bryn was walking across the open space. Buffy intercepted her. "Hey," the Slayer said, "this is a good idea."  
  
Bryn shrugged, her hands making jittery motions. "Thanks, but all it will really do is slow them down."  
  
"Hey, think positive. They probably won't even come back." Buffy tried to put a lot of conviction into her statement.  
  
Bryn's face looked drawn and tight. "But what if they do?"  
  
"Then we fight. As long and hard as we can. Make sure everyone knows it's them or us."  
  
Bryn's teeth flashed. "Pretty brutal. Deena said you were tough."  
  
"She'd know. She's done a lot with a broken arm."  
  
"She's pretty proud of that splint she made." Bryn looked up at the sky. "Mrs. Brannigan's still out. Tricia thinks the ranger's stopped bleeding. One of the sprained ankles may be broken." She tucked her hands in her back pockets. "Thanks for all the help last night. I was really shook."  
  
Buffy said, "So was I." Cordelia limped up to them, her bootlaces trailing. Buffy pointed at them. "Why do your shoes look like that?"  
  
Cordelia gave her an acid look. "Tricia found some bandages, but I can't tie my shoes, if you must know."  
  
Buffy said, "I must, I must."  
  
Bryn said, "Thank you, too, Cordelia."  
  
"For what?" Cordelia looked annoyed.  
  
"For the help last night."  
  
Cordelia said nothing. Buffy gave her a sharp look. Cordelia glared back for a moment, then turned to Bryn, a smile on her face. "You're certainly welcome. Your highness," Cordelia said.  
  
At that moment, Buffy would have enjoyed punching Cordelia in the head, but Bryn either ignored the sarcasm or was too tired and distraught to notice. "We'll light the fires just before dark," she said to Buffy, then turned and left.  
  
Buffy rounded on Cordelia. "It's so good to know that when our lives are on the line, you can still find time to be petty."  
  
Cordelia tossed her a haughty look. "Well, maybe I won't show you the things I found in the ranger's stuff."  
  
"I take it all back." Buffy looked the other girl up and down. "Where is it?"  
  
Cordelia pointed. "In the tent."  
  
Cordelia's finds were laid out on her sleeping bag. Buffy saw a knife, a box of flares, a roll of duct tape and a coil of nylon rope. "Okay," she said. "We can use this. We can find a way to use this."  
  
"Oh, wait." Cordelia flipped back the foot of her sleeping bag. "Thought you might be able to use this."  
  
Buffy's eyes widened. There lay a beautiful black compound bow and a box of target arrows. "Cordelia," she said, "I could kiss you."  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Great. First this trip was Night of the Living Dead. Now it's turning into Deliverance." Buffy looked at her, dumfounded. "Hey," Cordelia said, "joke, joke. I do have a sense of humor, you know."  
  
"Oh, that's what that was." Buffy turned back to the bow. "Where did you get this?"  
  
"Ms. Brannigan. Apparently we were going to have to shoot arrows."  
  
Buffy sat back, legs crossed and elbows on knees. "Now if we just knew what we were fighting."  
  
Cordelia crossed the tent and sat down. "You're sure they're not vampires?"  
  
"Trust me. I staked one last night and all it did was make it mad."  
  
Cordelia shrugged. "Maybe you missed the heart."  
  
Buffy cocked her head in Cordelia's direction. "I know where the heart is. I've missed hearts before and I know what it feels like. I did not miss the heart. Believe me when I say that if that thing was a vampire, it would be ashes by now."  
  
"Then what are they?"  
  
Buffy's chin rested on her folded hands. "Well, they don't like fire, but that's kind of a given. Nothing likes fire." She thought, surrounded by the amber glow of the cloudy light diffused through the tent wall. "They don't like light. The flashlights bothered them as much as the fire. It's the light."  
  
Cordelia looked up from examining her bandaged feet. "Because they're night creatures."  
  
"They run at night. Their eyes see in the dark, so light hurts." Buffy shook her head. "It's something, but it's not a lot."  
  
Cordelia frowned. "When Deena hit that one with the flashlight, it acted like it really hurt."  
  
Buffy shrugged. "I imagine it did. That was a big flashlight."  
  
"No, no." Cordelia rummaged through her pack and pulled out a long black flashlight with a checkered barrel. "It was like this."  
  
"Hers isn't that long."  
  
"It's the same kind." Cordelia turned the flashlight over in her hands, biting her lip in concentration. "Dammit, it's right on the tip of my tongue."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"I don't know." Cordelia continued to look at the flashlight. Suddenly her spine stiffened. She looked at Buffy, her eyes widening. "They're faerie."  
  
Buffy frowned. "You mean like Tinkerbell?"  
  
"No, not like Tinkerbell. When you were in the hospital last spring, when Giles and I had to research der Kindestod, I remember reading about the faerie. Some of them can't stand metal; they're really connected to the forest and nature and metal hurts them. Some of them die just from touching iron."  
  
"I'm impressed." Buffy's face reflected her words. "You remembered all that from that one session in the library."  
  
Cordelia stared at her and Buffy thought she saw something move behind the other girl's eyes. "Yeah," Cordelia said, tossing the flashlight back into her pack, "there are all kinds of things you don't know about me."  
  
***  
  
Faith opened the door and Xander jumped a little. He flushed and jammed his hands into his pockets.  
  
Faith looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Sure, I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay?" Xander pulled his hands out of his pockets and tucked them under his arms.  
  
Faith stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her. "Then let's get busy."  
  
"Yeah," Xander said. "Let's do that. Let's get busy."  
  
***  
  
Buffy concentrated on keeping her breathing as shallow as possible. It was the only way to keep her head still, and movement was not a good idea right now.  
  
"There." Cordelia looked at the Slayer then leaned to one side for a different perspective. "That's all the autumn taupe we need." She picked up a small jar, unscrewed the lid and dipped her finger into the contents. She drew the finger down the bridge of Buffy's nose, leaving a dark brown smear.  
  
The Slayer rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you brought makeup."  
  
Cordelia paused in her work and looked at Buffy. "This from the girl who carries holy water in a squirt gun? Now, tilt your head back."  
  
Buffy sighed but she did as she was asked. "Are you sure this is necessary?"  
  
"Hey," Cordelia said, "I don't want the reflection off your T-zone giving us away."  
  
"Oooh, good point." Buffy's voice was tres sarcastic. "How much longer?"  
  
"I'm trying," Cordelia said, "but I don't really have anything for your coloring."  
  
"Gee, what a faux pas." Buffy rolled her eyes down to look at the other girl. "Do you remember the plan?"  
  
"Yes." Cordelia inspected her handiwork. The intention was camouflage but the effect was closer to abstract art, sort of a cross between Picasso and Mr. Stitch. She nodded. "Okay," she said as she handed the makeup to Buffy.  
  
"My turn." The Slayer began to smear makeup on Cordelia. She was not nearly as painstaking in her application.  
  
"Tell me again, why are we going after them?" Cordelia said. "Why not just light the fires and hope for the best?"  
  
"Because the fire won't stop them."  
  
"How do you know where to find them?" Cordelia closed her eyes.  
  
Buffy spread a wide swath of green across Cordelia's forehead. "Remember when I went to get more wood this afternoon? I did a little scouting. I found a trail that I'm positive is theirs."  
  
"What if they don't come down the trail? What if they split up?"  
  
Buffy stopped applying makeup and looked at Cordelia in exasperation. "For someone who didn't want to be part of this plan you sure are picking it apart."  
  
***  
  
"...so I said, 'Yeah, I'm the one' and I dropped him like a bad habit." Faith glanced over her shoulder at Xander. "So you guys tried to fill the slaying void while B was gone?"  
  
Xander nodded. "It seemed like the right thing to do."  
  
"Bet you sucked at it."  
  
He smirked. "You give us too much credit."  
  
She stopped and turned. "Still, it took some major sack just to try."  
  
Xander opened his mouth, closed it, and then shrugged. "Thanks for the validation."  
  
Faith pursed her lips. "B's lucky to have you guys."  
  
Xander kicked at the ground. "We try to mostly stay out of the way."  
  
"Isn't that nice." They turned toward the voice. A man dressed in a long coat stood on the sidewalk about twenty feet away. He was positioned so that the light from the streetlamp was behind him. His coat swirled slightly in the evening breeze. "Sorry to interrupt your little Oprah moment."  
  
Faith took a step to her left. "Let me guess. Mr. Trick."  
  
His shoulders moved forward, then back. "And I believe you would be Faith, the unforeseen Slayer."  
  
Xander brought the crossbow to his shoulder, sighted down its length, and fired in one smooth motion. Trick's response was elegant and simple. His right foot moved behind his left and he pivoted his body on the ball of his left foot. The bolt whisked by him and disappeared into the night. "Please don't do that again," Trick said. "What poor hospitality! Have I made so much as a threatening gesture?  
  
Xander shrugged, lowering the weapon to his side. "Well, you know what they say. If you sneak around at night and drink blood, you might be a vampire."  
  
Trick made a small applauding gesture. "Very witty, Xander. I respect a man who's first impulse is to be a smart-ass."  
  
  
"Great," Faith said. "Now that we've got the introductions out of the way, why don't you beat it before I steel-toe your ass back to the hood."  
  
Trick chuckled but his voice was cold. "Why, Miss Thang. Listen girl, I guarantee that you're closer to the ghetto than I am. But that's a typical white trash reaction to a successful brother."  
  
Faith balled her fists. "Really. Why don't you step up here and say that."  
  
"Please. I'm not going to fight you. Not tonight." Trick rose up on tiptoe and took a deep breath. "I'm just out getting some evening air." He took a step forward and Xander pulled out his cross. "Why is everyone so jumpy tonight? It's enough to make me feel unwanted."  
  
"Hey," Xander said, "go with the feeling."  
  
Trick inclined his head toward the boy. "Once again, well-played. Oh, by the way, Xander, I think what you're doing is great. A man should never close off all his options." He stepped backward. Faith charged. Trick spun to the left, slipping his right arm out of the sleeve of his overcoat. He timed the move so that Faith missed him by inches and tackled the coat, which collapsed over her and sent her sprawling on the pavement. Trick stepped toward Xander, who held out his cross. Trick stopped and laughed.  
  
"That's good, boy. You just keep on believing that's enough." Trick glanced at Faith, who was extracting herself from the coat. "Too bad I have to leave it. It's a little chilly tonight." He grinned, an expression that froze Xander down to his toes. "Like that matters to me." Then he was gone, leaving Xander standing there with his arm extended, the cross gripped in his trembling hand.  
  
"Shit!" Faith threw the coat down on the ground, then jumped up and down on it. "Shit, shit, shit!"  
  
Xander lowered his cross and swallowed. "When you're done punishing the evil coat, it might be time to call it a night."  
  



	4. the fourth part

Buffy leaned into the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough bark against her cheek. She scanned the forest below her by moving her eyes. Her head remained still. The clouds rolled overhead and a cool breeze whispered through the trees. She was glad she was wearing long sleeves. She attempted to tune out the gentle shoosh of the air through the branches, to listen past it. She was certain that she would hear them well before she saw them.  
  
***  
  
Cordelia lay flat on her stomach, the tarp cold and heavy against her back. Every now and then a pine needle would tumble down across her face. They tickled and itched, but she lay as still as possible and resisted the urge to scratch; instead she reviewed the plan again and again. It was simple, which was a plus, but it also had an infinitesimal margin of error, which was a minus. She had been lying here for hours, at least it seemed like hours. She knew Buffy was out there somewhere. She hoped the Slayer was up to the challenge.  
  
***  
  
The ValleyView sign was visible for two blocks and audible for half that; the blue neon buzzed like an angry bee in a jelly jar. Xander and Faith passed beneath it and continued down the row of doors until they reached Unit #6. Faith scowled; her funk had remained unbroken since their encounter with Mr. Trick. She had even refused to go to the Bronze.  
  
"Are you all right?" Xander asked as they stopped in front of her room.  
  
"Man, we had him. He was right there in front of us."  
  
"Yeah." Xander nodded. "Which was probably his plan. Do you really think we just happened to cross paths tonight? C'mon, that's beachfront property in coincidence city."  
  
Faith tossed her head back and looked up into the night sky. "Maybe, but I can't believe that I didn't take him."  
  
"Lighten up," Xander said. "He probably choreographed the whole thing. Besides, it's not like he's going anywhere. I'm willing to risk five dollars right now that says you'll get another shot at him."  
  
"That's true." One corner of Faith's mouth lifted. "I am being kind of narrow and obsessional, aren't I?"  
  
Xander's eyes widened and he leaned back as though shocked. "Kind of? More like sort of."  
  
Faith looked down and when she looked up she was smiling. A slight, ghostly smile, but a smile nonetheless. "When exactly did you start making fun of me?" she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
"Ah, grasshopper, some would say that before I met you I mocked you." Xander folded his hands in front of him and bowed his head. "It's kind of a Zen thing."  
  
Faith's smile grew into an actual grin. "I'm starting to see why B lets you hang around." Her expression sobered but her eyes continued to dance and spark. She lunged forward and grabbed Xander in a clumsy hug that almost cracked a rib. "You're a... you're all right," she mumbled then released him. She hopped up on the concrete step. "I'll see you later."  
  
***  
  
Buffy could smell rain in the air; the storm was not over. The lightning had returned, but instead of jagged arcs flashing across the sky it was a muted, behind-the-clouds luminescence. She stifled a yawn and blinked. Questions and fears began their steady march through her mind.  
  
What if the creatures were advancing by another path? What if there were more of them tonight? What if they did separate? What if they were already in the camp, running amok in a cruel display of carnage and death and-  
  
She forced the thoughts out of her head. She had detected no other trail. She had made a decision and formulated a plan; now she had to live with it. She made a conscious effort to relax each muscle.  
  
She heard them first. Not the sound of their passing; the wet forest floor and their uncanny ability to pass lightly negated any sound. Instead she heard hushed chittering noises that must have been their speech. She held herself in utter stillness as they passed beneath her. They were at the crucial spot; she held her breath without being aware of it. The pack moved down the trail with skittish little hops and mincing steps. Whatever they were, these creatures were meant to run flat out and their movements at lesser speeds lent them a faintly comic air. Buffy was not amused. She watched them as they drew farther away-ten yards, thirty, forty...  
  
They reached the tree, an old pine long ago splintered by lightning. Buffy pushed off and dropped out of the tree, landing on the forest floor. As she'd expected, the creatures heard the thud of her landing (for all she knew, they heard the swish as she passed through the air) and began to turn. She ignored them. Microseconds counted and any attention directed toward her foes would only slow her. As she landed her knees bent to absorb the shock. She went with the momentum, bending low and thrusting her hands out and down, into the thick layer of pine needles and pulling out what she had buried earlier. As she went to one knee she twisted the cap off the first flare and placed the arrow to which it was taped against the bowstring.  
  
Almost before the arrow cleared she dropped the bow and grabbed the second arrow. Twist, nock, sight, release. The mental rehearsals and the adrenaline flooding her system produced a savage clarity. She moved in a blur, compensating for the unfamiliar bow and the arrows, nose-heavy and clumsy due to their added pyrotechnic cargo. All six arrows were away in less than four seconds, blazing missiles trailing their phosphorescent spoor.  
  
The first projectile sliced through the air and went through the neck of one of the creatures. Its scream was cut short as the blazing flare smacked it between the shoulders. It spun, reaching for the protruding shaft, but before it could pluck out the makeshift brand the fire caught. The thing began to blaze like a torch. Another arrow slammed into the chest of another creature as it turned. In seconds it too was ablaze. A third arrow hit one of them in the side, but it struck a rib, or whatever they had in their thorax, and bounced off, the target point unable to penetrate. The remaining three arrows whistled away into the night. The four survivors flinched away from the glare and flame, then screamed and began to sprint toward her at blinding speed.  
  
Buffy tossed away the bow and took out the knife and Cordelia's black Mag-Lite. The things crossed the space that separated her from them with frightening speed and fluidity. She took a deep breath. They passed the tree with the strip of duct tape on its trunk.  
  
"Now!" she screamed and Cordelia stood up and hauled on the rope, throwing her weight into it. The yellow nylon sprang free of the leaves and needles they had piled atop it and snapped taut between two trees. The first two creatures ran into it at full speed. The rope caught them across the chest; their feet flew out from under them and they fell to the forest floor, howling in outrage. The two followers tried to stop and only succeeded in becoming tangled with their fallen fellows. The rope was whipped from Cordelia's hands. She winced and grabbed a flare, twisting off its cap. It hissed and popped, erupting in a guttering flame as she tossed it through the air. The torch landed on the far side of the creatures. They recoiled from it. Cordelia tossed another flare, and another. And as the disoriented monsters drew back from the harsh glare the Slayer entered the fray.  
  
They sensed her coming, even through the painful light, and turned toward her. One of them swiped at her with its long claws and she blocked it with the Mag-Lite. It screamed in pain and Buffy felt a surge of triumph. They were right! It was the metal that hurt them. She plunged the knife in, feeling the blade grate along an unfamiliar skeletal structure. Her assailant howled and fell at her feet. The eerie pinkish light and utterly black shadows of the flares surrounded Buffy as she hopped over the body and met the next one, clubbing it between the eyes. It shrieked and fell back. She felt something to her left and turned. The flashlight beam caught the thing in the face and Buffy froze. The thing's face was female. High, unnaturally slanted eyes, long hair that was more like moss, a jaw line and chin impossibly long and pointed, but female nonetheless. Then it struck at her and she stabbed it through the throat.  
  
Something in her primitive monkey brain flashed a warning through her nervous system and she rolled forward in a somersault as razor-sharp talons slashed the space she had occupied heartbeats before. As she twisted up out of the fall to face her attacker she saw the fourth creature dashing toward Cordelia. Buffy had just enough time to scream the other girl's name as she returned to her own battle.  
  
Cordelia was twisting off the cap off a flare when she heard her name. She looked toward Buffy and saw one of those freaks coming at her. Cordelia's brain took a vacation; she blanked out completely. Her hands finished their task and the flare blazed into life. Without thinking, Cordelia thrust it in the direction of the charging thing. The creature was too close to change direction. The flare stabbed through its eye. Its shriek was like a knife being scraped across bone. Cordelia screamed and let go. The fiend staggered away, clawing at the flare lodged in its eye socket as the flames began to pierce the back of its head.  
  
Buffy pulled the knife out of her last assailant and turned. She saw the final creature fall to its knees, engulfed in flame. Cordelia was on the ground, shaking and twitching. Buffy raced to her side and dropped to her knees. Cordelia was crying, huge body wracking sobs as the tears coursed down her face. The Slayer's looked for blood, protruding bone, anything.  
  
"Cordelia," Buffy said as she searched for an injury, "what's wrong? What's wrong?"  
  
Cordelia's tear-filled eyes looked at her. "My feet are killing me."  
  
And it began to rain again.  
  
***  
  
It's my own fault, Xander thought. It's what I get for having my head up my ass. He turned in a slow circle to get a true fix on his predicament. Yep, he was up to said ass in vampires. They had materialized out of the woodwork as he wandered along the street. They looked pretty tough, too; bald, grizzled veterans of dozens of street battles. Xander took a deep breath.  
  
"Hey, mind if I cut in?" He turned toward the voice and there stood Faith, clad in black leather and holding a stake point down along her right thigh. The vampires snarled and she attacked. Before Xander could register her actions, she had dispatched them all.  
  
He looked around at the layer of dust, then up at her. She stood there, tendrils of mist floating around her, a mysterious smile on her lips. He gulped.  
  
"Hey," he said in a scratchy voice, "what happened to your clothes?" She stepped out of the mist, naked, and drew him to her. Their lips met in a soul-melting conjunction. He closed his eyes-  
  
Xander's eyes snapped open. He looked down at the pillow he had clutched to his chest. Laying it aside, he sat up, his feet on the floor and his head in his hands. When his breathing slowed, he got up and went to the bathroom. He ran water into a paper cup and drank it in one swallow. He filled the cup again, saluted his reflection in the mirror over the sink, and tossed the contents of the cup into his face. He watched the water drip down the face in the mirror.  
  
"I don't know what that was," he said to his reflection, "but I don't think it was good."  
  
***  
  
The rain stopped a little before dawn and the clouds began to break up. The storm was spent. A thick morning mist had rolled off the two hills and settled over the camp. As Buffy and Cordelia came staggering out of the fog they looked like two soldiers at the end of an old World War II movie. Buffy's face burned from several small scratches, inflicted by whip-like pine boughs. Cordelia limped along, walking on her heels in a vain attempt to lessen the pain. Twigs and pine needles were entwined in their hair, the makeup/camouflage smeared across their faces, and they were dirty. They came to their tent and stopped.  
  
"Boy," Buffy said. "We are a mess."  
  
"I've been worse." Cordelia's voice was quiet and for a split-second her eyes hardened. Buffy knew what she was talking about.  
  
"We did it, Cordelia," the Slayer said. "We did it."  
  
"Yeah, yay for us. I just want to lie down."  
  
"What happened to you guys?" Bryn came race-walking toward them.  
  
Buffy glanced at Cordelia, then back at Bryn. "Uh, we had to... go to the bathroom and we got a little lost, so we decided to just wait it out instead of stumbling around in the dark."  
  
"You were out there?" Bryn pointed toward the woods.  
  
"Yeah." Buffy nodded. "But we didn't see those weirdoes."  
  
Bryn squinted, looking at their faces. "What about the...?" She motioned toward her face.  
  
"Oh, this." Buffy huffed out a quick breath. "Well, we... uh, we thought it might..." She drew a blank.  
  
"Keep the mosquitoes away," Cordelia said.  
  
"Yes." Buffy nodded for emphasis. "What she said. Keep the mosquitoes away."  
  
"Uh-huh." Bryn looked down at Cordelia's feet. "Are you all right?"  
  
"No," Cordelia snapped. "I need to be in a wheelchair."  
  
"Oh. Sorry." Bryn looked at Buffy. "I have some good news. The clouds are breaking up. They should be able to send a chopper with EMTs and a couple of rangers around noon. The injured go out in the helicopter and the rest of us will hike out with the rangers."  
  
Buffy nodded. "It better be a big helicopter."  
  
Bryn glanced over her shoulder. "This feels so creepy."  
  
"What does?" Buffy asked.  
  
Bryn's lips trembled. "All I've thought about is how happy I am to be getting out of here. How can I feel that way? People died. Other people got hurt. How can I be happy?"  
  
Buffy bit her lip. "I don't know what to say."  
  
Cordelia half-sighed, half-snorted. "Bryn, stop it. Just stop it." Bryn looked at her, eyes wide as though she had been slapped. Cordelia continued. "It was life and death. You lived. They died. It wasn't your fault. Being glad you're alive doesn't make you evil. It doesn't mean you enjoy the suffering of others. It makes you normal. I know." She crawled into the tent.  
  
Buffy looked down at the ground, then at Bryn. "I'd like to apologize for her. It was a long night, she's tired, her feet really hurt--"  
  
Bryn interrupted with a wave of her hand. "Don't. She's right. I am glad I'm alive." She looked at Buffy. "What did she mean, 'I know'?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. "I'm sure I have no idea."  
  
***  
  
Buffy walked through the camp, weaving between the EMTs carrying stretchers and the girls packing their stuff. Half-a-dozen small bandages adorned her face and arms, covering the surface abrasions and scratches she had accumulated. Body bags were being loaded into the helicopter. Deena sported a new white cast on her broken arm. The activity proceeded at a frenetic pace; everyone wanted to be gone from this place.  
  
Cordelia sat on a stretcher, her feet swathed in bandages. Buffy squatted beside her. "What's the word?" the Slayer asked.  
  
"Well, I won't be wearing open-toed shoes anytime soon." Cordelia waved a hand at her feet.  
  
Buffy steadied herself by placing one hand on the ground. "What you said this morning really helped Bryn."  
  
Cordelia's eyes rolled. "Oh please. I am so tired of her Joan of Arc 'tude. 'I'm in such torment', 'why wasn't it me?'" She snorted.  
  
"You might give her the benefit of the doubt." Buffy's voice was a little sharper than she'd intended.  
  
Cordelia cocked her head at the Slayer. "Excuse me, but if this is going to be a big 90210 moment, I'll retch."  
  
"Suit yourself." Buffy stood up. "Oh, I also wanted to say thanks. I couldn't have done this without you." She walked away. The helicopter engine whined and the rotors began their slow revolution.  
  
***  
  
"It sounded very dramatic on the news." Willow took a bite of her sandwich. The autumn breeze stirred the branches and chased fallen leaves across the school lawn.  
  
"Believe me, they didn't get half of it. Have you heard about Ms. Brannigan?" Buffy tore off a piece of bread and tossed it onto the lawn, trying to lure a squirrel closer.  
  
Willow shrugged. "Well, the good news is, she'll miss the rest of the term. The bad news is, she'll be good as new next year." She took a pear out of her brown paper bag. "By the way, in case you're interested, I think those things that attacked you were gwyllions."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yup. They're all female, live in the forest, attack at night and are scared of metal. Sound about right?"  
  
"Yeah," Buffy said. "All female, huh?"  
  
Willow shrugged. "That's what the books say."  
  
Buffy turned to Willow. "Say, let's try something wacky and different. How about we leave the morgue talk behind and get back to what passes for normal. How was the weekend?"  
  
Willow shrugged. "Pretty much of the boring. Oz and I went to the Bronze. Xander patrolled with Faith. Lindsay got over the flu. Giles... I'm not sure what Giles did."  
  
"Buffy! Hail the conquering hero." Xander strolled up, hands in pockets.  
  
Buffy smiled at him. "How's Cordelia?"  
  
Xander tilted his head to one side. "Doctor says it will be the end of the week before she can even get out of bed."  
  
Buffy mock-shivered. "Sounds grim."  
  
Xander held up a hand. "You'd think, but you'd be wrong. Apparently this is a chance for me to perfect my waiting on her hand and foot skills. Which I'm doing mostly over the phone."  
  
Buffy laid a hand over her heart. "You're a prince among men," she said in an exaggerated voice.  
  
Xander's eyebrows arched. "Why didn't you say that when I was single?"  
  
Buffy smiled. "Seriously, this time she was part of the solution, not the problem. Or at least a bigger part of the solution than the problem.  
  
Xander thrust a fist through the air in front of his belt. "A ringing endorsement if ever I've heard one."  
  
Buffy turned to Willow. "Now, I want to know-were there smoochies?"  
  
Xander jumped. "What? What are you talking about? Why would you--" He noticed the 'are you crazy' looks that Buffy and Willow directed at him "-would you even care about what Oz and Willow do. Can't you give them some privacy?" He stood there, hands out, palms up.  
  
"Yo." Buffy turned her attention away from Xander and toward the sound of Faith's voice. The dark-haired Slayer loped toward them across the lawn.  
  
"Okay," Xander said. "I really gotta go. Bye." He hustled off, head down, as Faith reached Buffy and Willow.  
  
"Hey, B, good to see you're back," Faith said.  
  
"What's up with Xander?" Buffy said, watching the retreating figure.  
  
Faith shrugged. "I got no idea."  
  
***  
  
End of "High Midnight"  
  



End file.
